Temporary Vessel

This back is borrowed, a vehicle worn,

creaking and aching, with burdens well-worn.

A dull throb whispers like a tale that's been told,

as I bend to the ground, my muscles feel cold.

Once I felt strong, like a promise unmade,

but now I’m just shifting through time’s cruel cascade.

Each movement a struggle, a battle, a test,

like a jacket that's fitted, but shrinks at the chest.

I winced as I reached for a pen on the floor,

a simple task turned to a moment of war.

How fragile the frame, this vessel I keep,

a shelter for scars, where memories seep.

Yet here I am, living in borrowed skin,

a vessel for laughter, for losses, for sin,

if I could just find some grace in the ache,

remember this body is mine for the sake.