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I wrote this poem to try to put my migraine experience into language. Pain can erase one’s whole world. One yearns only for relief. After pain, I sometimes experience what Oliver Sacks described as a post-migraine euphoria: an overwhelming sense of ease and contentment. My neighbor’s yard is filled with azaleas. Most of the year it is a tangled mess of shrubs but when it blooms, it’s gorgeous. My post-migraine euphoria feels like the azaleas in bloom. But is the euphoria worth the pain?