Lupus by Olivia Salter / Poem

Lupus

By Olivia Salter

It starts with a twinge, a creeping ache,
A war inside you that won’t break.
Your body, your own, turns on its kin,
A quiet storm that rages within.

They call it the wolf, but it doesn’t howl—

It creeps, it gnaws, it stalks, it prowls.

No scars to trace, no wounds to find,
Just battles waged in flesh and mind.

The butterfly blooms on fragile skin,
A mark of beauty and ache within.
It whispers softly, “This is your fight,”
A fleeting glow in the endless night.

Some mornings feel like a heavy chain,
Each joint a knot, each step a strain.
You swallow the pills, their bitter trace,
A quiet hope in a weary space.

“They say you look fine,” but they can’t see,
The pain that’s locked where no one can be.
You fake a smile, deflect their care,
But the wolf is there, it’s everywhere.

Doctors talk in measured tones,
Their answers vague, their charts unknown.
You wait, you nod, you play the game,
But the wolf still prowls—it’s never tame.

It’s not just the pain; it’s what it steals,
The stolen time, the life it repeals.
The dreams delayed, the plans undone,
The moments lost before they’ve begun.

Loneliness cuts like a jagged blade,
A sharp reminder of what’s been frayed.
But then you find others who know this fight,
Who share their strength, their flickering light.

Some days, the wolf will pull you low,
Its shadow dark where hope won’t grow.
But even in darkness, there’s still a spark,
A stubborn flame that defies the dark.

You learn to cherish what the wolf can’t take—
A laugh, a walk, a moment to wake.
These little victories, small but true,
Become the strength that carries you.

It’s not fair, it’s not right, it’s never clear,
Why some endure year after year.
But still you rise, despite the cost,
To claim the life the wolf thought lost.

Some days you cry, some days you rage,
A battle fought in a wordless cage.
But even in tears, you still remain,
A quiet force against the pain.

The wolf is fierce, but so are you,
You learn to fight with what you do.
Through grit and grace, you find a way,
To turn the dark into your day.

This is for those who carry the weight,
Who rise each morning to face their fate.
Your fight, your fire, your quiet might,
Outshine the wolf with endless light.

The wolf may prowl, but it cannot claim,
The spirit burning in your name.
For every battle, every tear,
You’re proof that hope can persevere.