whew! i will not be able to stop thinking about this. it makes me think of my work in both mental health and physical rehab settings. this is it what each person i saw was telling me. it doesn't matter if you're dealing with a decline in physical or mental health..grief is so central to the experience and it's rarely addressed as such.
It really is. I didn't expect to be so full of gratitude after this poem. I'm looking forward to sharing it with them after this. I hope you have some as well!
Natasha, this is an incredibly moving, real and honest poem. It resonates with me, and I love the poles you create with Jenkinson's quote and the question you pose "I wonder if wallowing in it, splattering my pain(t) across the walls for all to see does the same." Then "depends on the one who sees it. Wow! What a gem of a poem this is!
This is awesome, Lisa, very powerful and evocative. "Don't touch me, don't look at me, let me suffer, let me dissolve." I feel the power in your words. Geat work!
Oh, I feel this one. My mom always used to say she wanted to put us in a bubble (I think she still does sometimes) and I understand the sentiment so well now.
I love this Sarah! As a parent and a grandparebnt, I feel this one as well. I remember wanting to bubble wrap our kids, trying to protect them from every harm, and coming to know how futile and foolish that was.
I couldn't help going full nerd on this prompt. My professional fascination as a PT is chronic pain, and I've learned a lot about it over the last ten years. It's not very poetic, but it's what I got today 🤓
This is really nice, Sarah. I can tell it comes from someone who knows pain, who works with it every day. And I think of such a wonderful combination, a PT who is also a poet. Sign me up~!
I love this Grace. It is so vivid and and rich in is imagery and how it truly connects me to the experience. I like each line, and the next to last stanza is superb:
Scar
We are a people of scars,
neither guaranteed protection
nor escape
from pain's slice and consequences.
But we are also created
for healing;
not healing whose visibility
or consequences vanish;
people who are found
by a forgiveness
that debrides our wounds,
rinsing away anger, malice,
resentment, and vengeance,
disinfecting them with grace,
packing them with mercy;
people whose flesh falls back together,
not in seamless invisibility,
but rough, bumpy reminders
of our past;
people who somehow
find the courage to seek catharsis
in our history's telling;
people whose hearts
are forever being pointed
toward the true north of hope.
Yes, this is who we are;
not perfected but blemished,
not fearless but courageous,
not arrived but journeying;
journeying together,
as a people of pain
who recognize the possibility
of tomorrow’s dream.
The slice of pain....ouch......
...
The imagery here is so vivid, Todd, and it resonates very clearly for me. Thanks for sharing it with us!
So real! Thank you!
Sweet work, Todd. I love "the true north of hope" Indeed, this is who we are. Thank you for articulating that so beautifully well.
What's the pain level
On a zero to ten scale
When your heart is sad.
whew! i will not be able to stop thinking about this. it makes me think of my work in both mental health and physical rehab settings. this is it what each person i saw was telling me. it doesn't matter if you're dealing with a decline in physical or mental health..grief is so central to the experience and it's rarely addressed as such.
You have pow words, becky.
Amen.
Oftentimes, it is 10 X an unimaginable digit.
Too big
I am here, should you need
an ear to fill with your
songs of sorrow.
Sometimes, in order to
release the ache,
we have to let someone
borrow it for a while, so
.
if you have to, say it sideways
and I will tilt my head;
I will lean in to hear it
if it must be whispered,
to be said, or we can climb
straight up a mountain until
only trees surround
.
and you can scream
until you're breathless,
so loud that the only sound
we will hear is the echo
of pain reverberating
from your mouth.
Let it out;
.
I am listening.
This is stunning!
This is one of the most beauitful poem songs I have read. Thank you for listening.
what if, just this once,
we grow curious
about each other's pain?
sit with. listen. just be.
mind open. hearts soft.
really see.
would it change the world,
this radical love?
i like to think it would
but we won't know for sure
until we try
Naming is taming.
Pain
What shall I name you
so you may become
a companion of my heartbreak and hardwork
rather than the cause of my suffering.
Stephen Jenkinson once wrote
that avoiding pain causes sufferring.
I wonder if wallowing in it,
splattering my pain(t) across the walls for all to see
does the same.
That depends on the one who sees it.
For I have dear friends
who have sung hymns in response to the messes I've been
Enchanting rainbow-coloured glitter to shine through
what has now become art.
And my pain is now ours
and our pain is now bonding
creating mosaics shifting whispering
you are welcome as you are
and we are stronger with you here.
- found family
So precious to have found family!
It really is. I didn't expect to be so full of gratitude after this poem. I'm looking forward to sharing it with them after this. I hope you have some as well!
I do, just not close by!
That is aleays hard, too. My people are not super close either :(
*Glitter…. Art…. Mosaics….*
Yes!
Natasha, this is an incredibly moving, real and honest poem. It resonates with me, and I love the poles you create with Jenkinson's quote and the question you pose "I wonder if wallowing in it, splattering my pain(t) across the walls for all to see does the same." Then "depends on the one who sees it. Wow! What a gem of a poem this is!
Hi Larry, thank you for sharing how this affected yoy and I'm so happy it resonates with you!
It is a true joy and revelation to read. I like the creative pain(t), a small indicator of a wild, creative and brilliant heart and mind!
Hahahaha well that reframes ot from my feeling of hating binaries and refusing to choose. I suspect much of creativity comes from refusing to choose.
You are very insightful!
A roaring in my ears
A struggle for breath
A breaking and twitching
like the legs of a dead spider.
Don't touch me
Don't look at me
Let me suffer
Let me dissolve.
Don't touch me. Sometimes it's too much!
That roaring, that silent loud roaring is deafening.
I hear that sometimes.
😭😢😔
This is awesome, Lisa, very powerful and evocative. "Don't touch me, don't look at me, let me suffer, let me dissolve." I feel the power in your words. Geat work!
Pain
A reminder
That we're human
Pain
A reminder
That we need each other
Pain
A reminder that we have needs
Pain
Physical or emotional
Pain
I love it when you're gone
And I can move/breath again
Nice work, Gloria, very creative and clever. I like the repeated reminders you offer--how neccessary and true wisdom.
Thank you!
I'm tempted
To wrap you
In cotton wool -
Each bump
And bruise
Hurts my heart -
Each teardrop
And tumble
Takes its toll.
But then I'd be
Missing out -
On your resilience;
On my capacity
To hold space
For your pain -
For our pain.
So instead of
Always calling out
'Be careful!'
I try to adventure
Alongside you,
And trust that pain
Is part of the package.
And cotton wool
Is not needed.
Oh, I feel this one. My mom always used to say she wanted to put us in a bubble (I think she still does sometimes) and I understand the sentiment so well now.
It's funny how these truths become apparent to us at different stages in our lives.
I love this Sarah! As a parent and a grandparebnt, I feel this one as well. I remember wanting to bubble wrap our kids, trying to protect them from every harm, and coming to know how futile and foolish that was.
The duality of it gets me big-time Larry!
I am right with you--that's love in its complex beauty.
Yes! And since becoming a mother, I notice duality more than ever before!!
Pain - a journey in three stages
Piercing
Alarming
Intense
Never-ending
...
Persistent
Awkward
Infuriating
Numbing
...
Peace
Acceptance
Internal healing
New growth
Acceptance.
Good word
This is nice, Jane. Yes indeed, new growth!
God of Wholeness,
we so often call ourselves broken
because we’ve disowned the reality
that our mistakes are part of who we are.
Hold us gently when you show us
we have never been less than whole,
because even a good shock
can come with great grief
for the years of pain
when we didn’t know.
Very nice January! I think of the concept of Imago Dei in reading your poem, and the wonderful redeeming notion of Original Blessing.
I couldn't help going full nerd on this prompt. My professional fascination as a PT is chronic pain, and I've learned a lot about it over the last ten years. It's not very poetic, but it's what I got today 🤓
The body's ability to
use pain
is fascinating.
To be created
or destroyed,
a two-way road
between the body
and the brain.
For the brain is the body,
and the body affects the brain.
A signal, a warning,
a memory:
pain is a form of
communication.
So our brain creates pain,
even in the absence
of stimuli, just
to make a point.
A familiar building
where trauma occurred,
or a certain smell,
or that one voice
can immediately trigger
a pain response.
The body keeps the score,
as it goes.
Equally amazing:
the brain's ability to block
pain when needed.
Running over broken glass
to save a child,
playing through the big game
on a stress fracture,
the signal effectively
blocked.
And we can consciously
tap into this level of control,
can work on our stress
response, can mitigate
the threats and turn down
the pain alarm.
We have more power
than we know.
Amazing!!! I go to PT weekly and today we are just talking how everything is connected, even the pain. 😬
This is really nice, Sarah. I can tell it comes from someone who knows pain, who works with it every day. And I think of such a wonderful combination, a PT who is also a poet. Sign me up~!
Larry, you are so sweet and encouraging with your comments :) thank you!
You are welcome!
This came out much longer than I anticipated, but the words seemed to know the way.
^
They lined up by the dozens
ragged and rugged band
of sojourners wrapped in pain,
hoping desperately for healing.
^
They came for a gentle touch,
a whisper, a soft glance
the powerful presence
in that space where love lives.
^
Some danced away in ecstasy
others sang to the spirit winds.
Some slowly walked in circles
some resumed life as they knew it.
^
Watching the crowds gather,
one question keeps rising:
who will heal the healer’s pain?
Who will bear a witness of the heart?
^
Who will seek to help carry the weight,
to soothe the tired heart,
to bandage the wounds visible,
to pray for the scars unseen.
^
Who will be a witness to
the breaking of hearts once healed,
the closet doors once thrown open,
closed again with locks on the outside.
^
Who will listen to the pain,
of those who left without a trace,
or those whose traces cannot be erased.
The tears that fall like autumn rain.
^
Who will heal the healer’s pain?
Is it those tears that wash away the sadness,
the love exchanged in sacred silence,
the stitches that mend the broken places.
^
Who will heal the healer’s pain?
Lie there through long silent night
holding pieces of gentle broken heart,
breathing into life the love that has no beginning
or no end.
^
Who will heal the healer’s pain?
We will, precious one,
circling around you as twilight nears,
grateful in this moment.
You are not alone.
Sometimes, the line of people winds all the way around the block and through the neighborhood park. It’s like there’s a flashing neon sign:
Healing and Hope
Learning How to Cope
Bring what you have.
Bring who you are.
Come with your pain,
from both near and far.
I hear this Todd, having been in and out of the line and in every facet of the continuum.
The cure for the Pain
Is in the Pain
So said Rumi
Somedays it lingers
Other days
It flows right thru me
Pain is
Your greatest teacher
So said Gibran
That makes some of us
Very well educated
And yet, we move on
Pain and Pleasure
They flow from the same stream
Keeping us on our toes
As we choose what to dream
This is good stuff, Jimmy. Surely in concert with Rumi and Gibran!
Go on - waltz around the
unasked / unanswered question
the elephant in the living room
The crumbling pulls my vision in
and feelings arise unbidden;
a shift, the return
organic waste and woe
an archive of aging.
Crisp edges vital
transform: now!
Organic ending
skips over the textures
that invade my eyes
Rot sets in
right on schedule /
just in time,
calling, and not so faintly;
reminding the vibrant of inexorable beckoning -
recalling eternity?
Only if we breathe and allow it in
Open the hatch locked tight against the world
Use your fingernails if you have to
Feel the bite of the metal as you
scramble at the seal that lets nothing in
-
Crack it open slowly slowly
Glimpse the reality of this world
the fires ravaging trees
the oil splitting oceans
the people walking walking
carrying everything
unable to look back
-
Let the pain sweep you and awaken you
the jagged lightning
the dull ache
the twisted knot
-
Let the pain be your compass as you
step out beyond the hatch
toward hope
I love this Grace. It is so vivid and and rich in is imagery and how it truly connects me to the experience. I like each line, and the next to last stanza is superb:
"Let the pain sweep you and awaken you
the jagged lightning
the dull ache
the twisted knot"
So good. Thank you for sharing this!
Pain
With the young mother’s
guttural cries of distress
At the sight of her home in rubbles,
her precious kids
under the caved in structure,
The glimmer and spark in their eyes
Erased by the inhumane
Indiscriminate bombing
from a state set on
murdering, starving, and driving
her people off their ancestral homeland,
My heart broke again.
And I enjoined my wails
To her engulfing pain
No amount of soothing will ever
Erase.
This is a powerful poem, Pascale. It is so difficult to imagine the level of devastation and pain being inflicted.