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WOUNDS



I feel the pain of wounds inside, that others cannot see.

They do not bleed or show on scans with any certainty.

And yet they’re there, and real enough to cause me pain and grief,

At times I wonder if inside, I’ll ever find relief.



My prayer has been that they would go and leave my heart set free,

So I could feel the pleasure of this life in store for me.

The healing comes, but it’s so slow, like gold being refined,

It’s like moving Mount Everest, a pebble at a time.



I’m learning now, the pain is part of who and what I am.

The grief is real and has its place in making me a man.

I need to heal, I know I do, my need is to endure.

Just now instead of lack of pain, through pain I’ll find the cure.



© Bart Breen