Connecting, responding,
Reaching out
Requires more energy,
Effort,
Emotion,
Than the pain sometimes allows,
Leaving me separated, isolated,
Alone.
Words lie flat on printed pages
Unclear, obscure,
Perplexing.
Thoughts drift, wander,
Swirl out of reach,
Refusing to make sense,
Take shape,
Opaque,
Leaving me wordless,
Isolated,
Alone.
Pain is difficult to define,
Describe, color,
Number, name,
A formless image,
A vapor, a mist,
A mirage
That dissolves, dissembles, disappears
As I try to capture it in words,
Wanting it to be concrete,
Quantifiable,
Understandable to others...
To me.
Yet the mystery
Is that once accepted,
Embraced,
Understood as allowed
By the Hand of my Heavenly Father,
Pain becomes a gift --
A mysterious,
Powerful,
Incomprehensible gift --
Able to refine, cleanse,
Justify, purify
And strengthen my soul,
Deepening my faith
And leaving in its wake,
A humble,
Useful, usable
Teachable,
Willing spirit,
Intrinsically reflecting
The heart and soul and mind
Of GOD.
Cindee Snider Re lives in Sussex, WI with her husband, their five children, two cats, and two Shichon puppies. She enjoys quiet evenings, long walks, good books, homeschooling her kids, and lots of good, strong, hot, black tea.
