Pain

Pain is a nasty companion
and sneaky.

Weeks pass with no sign of
him or his shadow.

Then he visits. But gently.
Starting with a morning headache, slight.
Some throbbing, moving through each hour
of the day.

And the first day stretches into another as
a restless nights sleep
compounds the consuming constricted veins that
I can feel pulsating.

Then he goes for the kill – fingers begin to ache,
dull subtle pain that manifests in trembles,
that lock the fingers trying to write this legibly.

In response I put these words to paper at all costs
in hopes of exposing the monster, at least to
confront the veil and rift developing between
body and mind.

Posted by williamricci

I am a student of zen and nature, and work to balance people, technology, and the environment.

Reader interactions

7 Replies to “Pain”

  1. Yes, you are correct…you need to release the pain. You have been fighting against yourself for sometime. Now you must release!

    Reply

  2. So close to home for me ~ as you know. Poetry around pain … sometimes healing ~ but also courageous. I can feel the genuineness in this… and also know the insidious monster well. Actually headaches have been plaguing me this last week after a spell without a trace of them… perhaps there is something universal. May body and mind find peace and comfort soon dear friend ~ Much Love, RL

    Reply

    1. Perhaps it is related to the shifting consciousness that seems to be more strong each day. I wrote this while the headache was swimming around in my brain. It was definitely therapeutic to get some of the words out and read them back to myself.

      Reply

  3. I deal with it and hate it and work very hard to overcome, generally really.

    Reply

    1. Thank you Pete, good to hear from you.

      Reply

  4. May you expose what is required, to gain the peace much needed. Pain takes us to places we’d rather not travel, yet sometimes the destination can be reached no other way.

    Reply

    1. Quite the interesting way to look at it. I had not thought of it that way. Especially at the time, when focus becomes so singular. But in this case, a poem and conversations came out of it.

      Reply

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