Many people who I have come across, some quite recently in blogland, write to express the way they are feeling and to deal with illnesses such as M.E. When I leaf back through my bulging writing folder, the early days of my M.E. were characterised by dark, desperate poems which seemed to shout 'help me, I'm trapped'.

And that was what I was feeling, sheer frustration. It is very theraputic to vent your feelings, even if no-one else ever reads your work, you have gained a wonderful sense of shedding the burden by writing things down.

For those of you who haven't seen my other blog Word it Right or read my profile, I now make a living out of writing. I have M.E. to thank for that, for putting me on the right path and making me reassess everything. Before being struck down with M.E. I was proudly marching up the path, with my A levels in a suitcase, ready to jet off to be business woman of the year. Those that know me, will tell you, that is NOT me! Writing therapy during my blackest hours has led me to a career that I love and if I'm being honest, in my heart it is what I always wanted to do.

This poem is dedicated to those whose writings still reflect the dark side, my message is...hope can be found in the darkest places :)

Future Hope

Strange hope
On the end of the line.
I've found you.
Please help me,
Stay with me,
Strange hope.

Lifeline,
My key to the outside.
I've found you.
So turn it and
Open my door,
Lifeline.

New voice,
Yet spoken so softly.
I've heard you.
Speak louder,
Speak longer,
New voice.

Fresh face,
Only in my mind where
I've seen you.
Let me stroke,
Let me touch this
Fresh face.

Bright eyes
That burn through my dullness.
I've felt them.
Look again,
Look at me,
Bright eyes.

My future,
That is where you lie, and
I've seen it.
Take my hand,
Take me to
My future.

© Frances Pallett