Jan. 5
When drops of chaos splatter me
(where do I go!? where do I go!?)
it's not as painful as it used to be
on the surface of my soul.*
It stings but I can bear the pain
(though will it kill I do not know)
having learned from countless stains
to suffer is to grow.
And as the tissue puckers and scars
(they point and stare as I come and go)
and chaos drops outnumber stars
I will try to keep my hold
on the sheltering rock to which I cling
(did I find it or it find me?)
and if I, crippled, live I'll sing.
And if I die so let it be.
*This seemed true when I wrote it a few days ago, but the next day I was plunged back into the acid bath of grief.
It must seem like one step forward and two back, rather than the other way around, but at some point the balance will change. I do feel very much for you.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Perpetua, for your encouragement. It is good to experience those hopeful moments, even if temporary, and also good to receive encouragement from friends.
ReplyDelete