One cannot measure another’s pain
No one can tell why the stranger
Wakes sobbing in the tomb of night
Swerves, driving, distracted with grief, and kills
Beats a loved one swollen, senseless
Shrieks words no ear was ever meant to audit
We, the witness, perhaps the victim
Hear only plaintiff screams of nightmare
See staggered desolation of auto accident
Daub bloody welts and bruises of injured flesh
Calm sobs and whimpers that breach our space
No scale weighs human suffering
Or balances action and intent
Restores howling distress to comfort’s level plane
Laws merely define acceptable codes
Capture limp body but not ailing soul
Punish lines crossed by rant and rage
We who are left bear the cuts, the breaks
The tenuous grip of our stance on ground
We cleanse the damage
Rake torn flesh and dried tears into piles
With fallen leaves and rotting acorns
Common detritus mixed casually with rare
Assuage the tremor of craven spirits
Plant new flowers, mow young grass shoots
Use hurts like mulch rebuilding broken earth
Pay for repairs as if labor were a salve
And in the blackness of our broken dreams
In the somber coil of our own night
We sacrifice our future and pawn our ancient debts
We genuflect to graven idols in clouds of acrid smoke
Carve holy spirits in rancid tendrils of spilled wine
We deny our history and excuse it from commission
Compose laments like innocent children asking why
We beg redemption and grant privilege to
The one true God and all the gods
To protect us from malice of our own pain
To shield our loved ones from wrath
That we cannot touch but that burdens us
Like rocks slung over our backs and
Knives rending our hearts
Words that are a cleft in our soul
Because if we cannot measure the pain of another
We surely cannot define our own
God’s voice is not in the fury, the scream, the loathing screech
Not even in the pain we feel that propels
Our arm to lash, our muscle to pummel, our mouth to abuse
But in the hush after the storm
In the whisper of regret
In the murmur of remorse
In the silent wail of the callow heart
God can be heard
Be still
Listen
Comments on: "The Silent Wail of the Callow Heart" (2)
I am constantly amazed by your writing. Nicely done.
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Thank you, Jacqui, I appreciate your compliment.
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