What is pain?
Is it that what we feel physically, oh the agony?
Is it that what we feel in our heart, oh the anguish?
Is it what we feel in our souls, oh the torment, the fear?
Do I know when I am in pain?
I am not so sure.
I can stop everything except pain.
I can think of insignificant or awful things to stop love.
I can think of splendid things to stop hate.
I can have uplifting thoughts to tame the torment, to quell the fear.
I can think of other trappings to not think of something I don’t want to think about.
But when I am alone,
When it is just “me and me” and Him if you like (or need) ,
When I remove whatever clutter has taken residence in my mind, body or soul.
I can feel pain.
I have all kinds.
My body aches even though my head tells me to ignore it.
My emotions afflict me when I am rejected, feel unloved or lonely.
My soul seems to desert me when I have done something wrong (or thought I had) .
I always surmised this was a bad feeling, this pain.
It, pain, is only one of many feelings, emotions and spiritual parts of my life.
I am blessed because I am able to feel pain.
If I were not, I would not be human.
Or I might be Hitler, Pol Pot, Stalin or of the like.
If I did not feel pain,
I could not feel love.
I could not feel gratitude.
I could not feel relief.
I could not feel Him.
I could not feel anything.
What a pity to not feel anything.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very profound words... 'I am blessed because I am able to feel pain'. This is very true. I think pain often serves as a warning, like if you cut your hand, pain is a warning that your body is being damaged, and makes you want to make sure you don't damage it further.