{"id":2081,"date":"2018-02-08T20:22:31","date_gmt":"2018-02-08T20:22:31","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/wp.lancs.ac.uk\/translatingpain\/?p=2081"},"modified":"2018-02-08T20:22:31","modified_gmt":"2018-02-08T20:22:31","slug":"7-months-of-pain","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wp.lancs.ac.uk\/a-bel-abroad\/7-months-of-pain\/","title":{"rendered":"‘7 Months of Pain’, by Robert Orr"},"content":{"rendered":"

Every day I travelled, called or thought<\/span>
\n It was never going to get better<\/span>
\n But the morphine did its job<\/span><\/p>\n

Varying degrees of brightness\u00a0<\/span>
\n But in the end all grey<\/span>
\n Kept away the darkness that we knew would come one day<\/span><\/p>\n

We had laughs, we had tears<\/span>
\n We had quiet, we had sleep<\/span>
\n We had time together, we had time<\/span><\/p>\n

You never once complained\u00a0<\/span>
\n You never were bitter<\/span>
\n You were in pain, but they always kept it subdued<\/span><\/p>\n

In the end you were distant\u00a0<\/span>
\n Slowly fading away<\/span>
\n In both mind and body, but along with your pain<\/span><\/p>\n

I still remember now<\/span>
\n Not as frequent but still vivid<\/span>
\n Your pain it is now ended, and I still I don’t know why<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n