“We are destined and designed to bear our pain with us, hugging it tight to our bellies like the young Spartan thief hiding a wolf cub so it can eat away our insides.”
– Dan Simmons, Hyperion

Pain is a peculiarly archaic human concept;
it’s been around
since the first organic flesh bled out;
its grip clutches us all at some point in our lives,
it can make you sing or dance or cry,
pain’s sharpest pierces so fierce
it’ll make your body wrack and writhe,
drop any one of us to the floor
in the blink of a Magician’s eye;
it is the curling and foam
of a wave that never breaks
Pain has no face – no recognizability;
no matter your social status chatter
at the end of everyone’s day, every day
Pain is the master that easily dominates,
that empties our hearts,
of the things that we so stupidly take –
for granted, oh for Chrissake…
our health is all we got from the start;
once that goes, and the pain creeps in
to your heart, mind, spirit, and also your skin
there’s no way to escape it, then…
Pain has clung to the sole of your shoe
and slithered its way in;
to cripple your body and warp your mind,
until the darkness surrounds you
no light left inside,
your only option to continue to survive –
is to suffer through and find a way to,
appreciate the days that you got left to be alive.

7 thoughts on “Writhe.

  1. m says:

    oh, honey. ((hugs))

  2. bdlheart says:

    I especially liked the last line. So so true. Another beautiful poem!

  3. words4jp says:

    the last line – – sums up what life is. i know tf on so many levels but fail at it, most of the time. in ways i feel as if i am squandering a gift and the shame and guilt keeps building up – instead of letting it go.