Diabetes Camp

We come, young, old, etc.
Those observing must wonder 
What common trauma unites, bonds
Brings us all together 
- for this.

First day check-ins, eager grins
Mostly some
Wondering what the hell they'd gotten
Into.

For some it takes hours for others
Days but a week for all is 
Plenty good to feel a sense of 
Something you haven't 
- before.

We sweat, we cry, we bleed one
Drop at a time confirming, affirming that
What makes this perfect is nothing
- more
Than our own imperfections.

An observer might say oh:
Sweat, tears, blood - it's salt that
Brings you all here but they'd be dead
Wrong because it's the opposite of
- that.

It's the sweetness, the sugar the old
Folks called it, that thing that robs
Vision, limbs and even years from
Our clutches.

But not here.

Here, we run we ride we jump we climb
Higher and further away, away from
Doctors from doubt from anything that says
- No.

Here, we laugh at our failures, here we
Ponder possibilities consider new
Realities and think only about
What if or what could or if we're feeling
Particularly strong
- what will.

When it ends, we go back to reality. We leave
The common ground we return to
A world where many have our 
Backs but few share
- our thoughts.

But it's funny.

I stand over the meter, the judge the 
So-called interpreter of what in
The world I'm doing right and everything
- I do wrong.

And for a short time the numbers 
Won't matter. If they are
High if they are low. A part of me will
Celebrate.

You see: so long as the numbers are
Crooked, I will have a place to go where
No matter what I will feel
- straight.

If they are wrong
I will feel
- right.

And if they are foreign
I will still feel
- home.

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