Making Poetry Out of Pain
Written by Maggie Bowyer
Beauty doesn’t always come from peace. My favourite poems are written by people who intimately knew pain. In my own work, I find the same thing; my most relatable poems are born from pain. While poets like Sylvia Path spoke of their mental anguish, I had a unique take on pain poetry. I have spent the last several years writing about Endometriosis, Fibromyalgia, Gastroparesis, and more.
The first poem came to me while I was wrapped around the base of my toilet. I lay there, letting my sweaty skin cling to the cool tile. I could see the bones beneath my forearms move as I began to type, “All the little bits / of pain scattered / through my body / like a vase / was shattered / inside of me.” I was struggling with undiagnosed Endometriosis. I went to multiple doctors with my symptoms, begging them to perform laparoscopic surgery, the only way to diagnose Endometriosis currently. All of them dismissed me, which is common among Endo Warriors. The average patient in the US will suffer for seven and a half years and see seven healthcare professionals before getting an accurate diagnosis, despite Endometriosis being as common as diabetes or asthma.
I went to multiple doctors seeking help, and it wasn’t until I wrote a poem about my experiences that I was believed. Once I learned how to describe my pain, doctors listened. I used descriptors like stabbing, barbed wire, burning knives, aching, and nauseating. I realized articulating my pain was imperative to my journey once I wrote my first pain poem that included the lines “like my heart was / knocked from its cavity, / its shards ricocheted / and transformed / into the ice pick / in my shoulder; / the knife in my side; / the piercing in my hips; / the stab in my stomach.”
After writing my first pain poem, it only took me six months to get a diagnosis. I realized what a powerful tool my words could be for advocacy. I started writing about Endometriosis constantly. It was easy to write about it all the time, since the pain was relentless. Every time I sat in the shower, letting the scalding water leave red-hot burns, I was writing a poem in my head. When I was trying to cook dinner and invisible daggers brought me to my knees, I crawled to my phone so that I could write the lines “I am a kitchen / without plates, / pots, / pans. / I can burn / pain into / my skin / on the burners; / I can gut myself / with utensils / that seem to serve / no other purpose. / what is the point / of a kitchen / when my home / has been destroyed?”
Pain poetry has given me so many things. First and foremost, when I used the “keywords” that unlocked my doctor's understanding, I was given a laparoscopy and officially received my Endometriosis diagnosis. If I hadn’t used certain buzzwords to describe my pain, I could have gone even longer without a diagnosis - and it already took me 11 years. Beyond that, poetry allows me to process the trauma of debilitating pain as it is happening. My flare-ups leave me curled up on the bathroom floor, sometimes for hours, all alone. Poetry is an incredible companion in those isolating moments of chronic illness. While writing has blessed me in countless ways, the number one thing my poetry has brought me is community.
The Endometriosis community is the best club with the worst people. Every Endo Warrior I have connected with has inspired me. We fight through accessibility and accommodation issues, ridiculous pain, nutrition deficiencies, fertility struggles, and so much more. Despite all of that, Endo Warriors are the most compassionate advocates I have ever met. We understand each other’s hardships without saying a thing. We bring out extra heating pads for our Endo friendos when they are over, we understand when someone has to cancel because of pain, we can have a flare-up and work through it even when we shouldn’t have to, we are the most determined group of people I know, and I am so thankful my words have connected me to people globally. Endo Warriors have truly saved my life - from helping me through the diagnostic stage to sending me chronic pain memes on bad nights.
The most magnificent part of this community is the disabled joy. When I think about the Endometriosis community, I think about my group text chain with disabled cuties, where we send memes and rant about ableism. I think about meeting my best friend from another state for the first time; we hung out laughing for so long that she missed her check-in time at her hotel. I think about hopping on a video call with my dear friend in Australia, hearing about the amazing theatre and art they are creating, and experiencing effortless gender affirmation. My words and my illnesses are the only reason we met; for that, I am eternally grateful.
We can learn to describe the disabled joy as well as we describe the pain. Beauty and happiness can come from pain, transforming it from suffering to fully living. Symptoms might happen every day, but we can create disabled joy every day as well.
MAGGIE BOWYER is a poet from Greensboro, North Carolina. Maggie has been writing for decades and they have performed across the nation. Their work has been published by Bourgeon, Capsule Stories, Detour Ahead, The Vital Spark, and more.
In 2020, Maggie self-published their first collection of poetry, The Whole Story. Their second collection of poetry, When I Bleed: Poems About Endometriosis, has spread like wildfire and is now available online at every major retailer. Maggie has been amazed by your love and support.