Pain is a gift

Pain is a gift
Though heavy to lift

Left unfelt
It won’t roll away.

It gathers.
It cakes.
It starts to decay.

It’s carried around
Pound upon pound.

So let's set it down
now
give it a name,

And take a good look
Soft courage in hand.

Suffer the suffering
Drink deep the grief
Then strong lament.

For as you sift and sort
And cry and then pray
You’ll start to feel it -

The pain,
when named,
ebbs away.

And so the pounds
are ground down.

Hard rocks tumbled over
Can’t help but be sand
Held briefly, then blown
Away on the breeze.

Soft, clean and aching
A fresh open wound.

Where decay once
consumed
A clean bandage applied.
and ointment to soften.

And in Him, healing is found

With hope for tomorrow
for wholeness  
and peace.