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Companion to the Suffering
Don Hynes
May 23, 2014
Who doesn’t like the story
of heroes returned from war
with golden plunder
yet I’m living in the village
left behind, damaged,
barely able to continue,
the body’s anguish
through simple tasks,
the faltering step
of bone on bone
with muscles stuck,
healing slower
than a winter night.
Strange the certainty
as time shambles along
of what is knitting
and what remains,
present in the wound,
not feigning acceptance
but companion to the suffering,
the awkward steps
of something foreign
buried in the muscle
yet moving, because
what lives within
urges through the dark,
feeling without seeing
what waits beyond
as life breaks surface
into the sudden shock of daylight.
http://donhynes.com/blog/?p=1615