As I sit here nursing this pain on my sore arm, I can’t help but ponder the brevity of pain, and how we seldom acknowledge its infinite presence. Pain, like all other things present, will always be there as long as we acknowledge that it is there. Pain gains its authority the moment we decide to give our passing attention to it. Like life, we must withstand those little brief moments of pain that befalls us in the midst of trying times that never seems to escape us.
Pain
The moment we decide it’s real, we lose our power
We cater to its aching whims
We lose sense of what’s effective, and focus on the less expressive
I enjoy the moments when pain ceases to exist
Yes, the brief moments when we escape pain
Or does pain really escape us?
Pain is there, until we give it a name, a voice—an identity
What is pain?
Is it something we just feel in times of lost rendition?
Is it something we must succumb to because it’s meant to be acknowledged?
Pain, oh pain—since when did you strengthen your grip?
Why must you remind us of what we’ve fought so hard to heal?
In times of grief, you remind us of the realities of this sting
In times of hurt, we are reminded of the infinite existence of pain
An infinite existence, not anonymous to what we know as pain
This same pain, we escape by all means…forgetting the natural process it undergoes
Pain will remain, as long as we give it a name, a voice—an identity
That identity is power…the power of knowing when to escape pain
Pain, is there… seething in its glory, just waiting to be acknowledged
Living Free 