When life hurts, which it so often
does, how do we find meaning and
purpose to go on? Is there not some
thing twisted in believing or needing
to believe, that pain can be positive,
that hurting can heal, that suffering
can be not just necessary but good?
In this dance of reason, rage and
grief, for all walk hand in hand
with pain, can we remember the
steps and remain faithful to their
execution, telling ourselves that
it is all, in its own way, beautiful?
And is there anything else to do,
or which can be done, to soften
the hard edges of life, to smooth
the jagged jaws of reality, so that
we can, just for a moment, breathe?