Treasure Island

Atef Ayadi

The Comfort Of Pain

Pain and bags of agony
On my table
And build up
Like volcanic rubble
And expand like a sea coral
Around my virgin island

This is my only recipe
The only seeds from the last summer’s harvest
I have for my daily livelihood

My mind flirts
With my heart
In trouble
And sore from pain
It teases it
Without taking over
Mind's and heart's fights are always
About pride

I bribe my pain
And beg it
to stay for a night chatting
I hug my pain
And cross its black hair
Like a child who is afraid from a past nightmare

My darling pain
Do no not disappear
You are the cement
The stones
And the bricks
Needed to build
My new fortress
Against the next feeling attack.

Submitted: Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Edited: Wednesday, April 26, 2006
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