Recently, a friend of ALS TDI, Ron, from the ALS Forum who lost his voice in 2003 and has been living officially diagnosed with ALS since 2005, shared some poems with our team. We wanted to share them with all here. Thank you, Ron, for sharing with us, you are truly an inspiration.
This Thing
I often think of walking
Through fields of grass and stream
These things I took for granted
Now they're just a dream
Friends I used to have
Over time they drift away
It leaves me to assume
Must be seeing me this way
Our bodies have been ravaged
Minds are left to dream
Some mornings I often wake up
With a silent scream
We all fight this battle
We know we cannot win
I also know I’ll never
Walk those fields again
I know I must keep on fighting
Some of us with just our brain
Our bodies may be broken
But our spirits still remain
Don't let this monster beat you
After all it too will pass
It's only temporary
This Thing called ALS.
Special
Why is it some are chosen
Singled out it seems to me
Or is it some kind of honor
To have this rare disease
It seems to skip the bad ones
It only takes the best
Are we special people?
To be chosen over the rest
I don't know a single person
Who has this rare disease
That ever asked this question
Why did this happen to me
To the ones that has gone before us
Their memories must never fade
For all their pain and suffering
The sacrifices that they made
There has to be a reason
All though it's missed by me
So we must be Special People
To have this rare disease.
For my friend and fellow forum member, Olly
Some men are meant for greatness
God meant it just to be
The man we all should credit
My friend, we called Olly
He gave his time so freely
Helped so many in the past
Any problem you needed help with
You only had to ask
There's been many on this forum
But I have yet to see
Anyone that done for others
Like this man we called Olly
So we must never forget him
No one ever should
I'm proud to have known him
A man so filled with good
He's gone but not forgotten
As soon as we all will be
I hope we all remember
A good man we called Olly
He always ended his posts
With the most beautiful repast
I always will remember it
Until my very last
Into the heart, an air that kills, from yon far country blows.
What are those blue remembered hills, what spires what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went and cannot go again
By Ron Schaffer
