Tuesday, October 04, 2005


4 October 2005

I lived so long
with a pain which precluded
any sort of normalcy;
an ache which ruled out
any opportunity for peace.

It seemed to come from nowhere;
had always been; would always be,
presumably; was inherent;
a part of who I am, making who
I am somehow unacceptable.

So I’ve learned to equate
grief with some sort of misstep,
most often on my part,

and when it comes
(the grief, that is) I fall into
familiar patterns of
self-flagellant deprecation,
for surely I have played the fool,
if chaos swirls about me so.

It is a subtle and
cruelest form of delusion,
to believe oneself wise
in avoiding any grief; any strife.
For in so shunning hardship
of the heart, one takes leave
of any opportunity to love;
give; receive.

Avoidance precludes naught

except humanity.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Good stuff here. Keep it up!


George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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