In weary legs, a silent cry,
Where muscle aches and strength runs dry.
With every step, a heavy load,
The narrow arteries block the road.
A path once easy, now a fight,
Each stride a battle for the light.
The calves protest, the thighs grow weak,
Relief is found when rest we seek.
A flow of blood, but much too slow,
Through arteries that used to glow.
Peripheral arteries turn to stone,
And claudication claims its throne.
Intermittent, it will cease,
With rest, it brings a brief release.
But walking stirs the pain anew,
And every block feels long and blue.
Neurogenic, from the spine,
A different cause, but still malign.
With nerves compressed, the signals fray,
Relief arrives when rest holds sway.
The pain, the weight, the muscles burn,
A signal for the heart to learn,
That in the legs, the blood must flow,
To ease the steps, and let life grow.
But still, with courage, stride by stride,
The soul endures what legs can’t hide.
For claudication steals the pace,
But cannot dim the will’s embrace.
