Saturday, March 31, 2012

The Sanity of Pain

With a shuffle towards the door I do walk,
Though you think me well, well enough to talk.
I shudder with pain and grimace with disease,
So make your talk fast sir, if you do please.
You say that you are worried for my health,
That you don't know what to do, no such wealth
As you have can restore me to life's grasp,
For all of life tastes the sting of the asp.
I shake my head back and forth with anger,
So obvious is this; Jesus in a manger,
Such a fact as is reported was clear
As day, and so is my state if I may
Say so. For I tell him that he is dumb,
And that I, riddled with pain, have become
Deranged with such obvious despair that
He should not speak with so little care. At
Once his face is touched, the lines do appear,
And he looks down; is it anger or fear?
I cannot tell but he turns away; I know
I let my tongue escape, my heart strung bow
Was to hard, to taunt, and it do so break
As the morning does upon the ridge; bleak
Is my condition, and now my heart seeks
A new position that it may atone.
Words spoken in pain are likened to stone.

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