Where Pain Was Not Seen Poem by Yousif Ibrahim Abubaker Abdalla

A palace, shimmering in gold and light, stood far beyond the reach of need, its walls built from polished dreams, its doors locked tight by desire and greed. Inside, love drifted like a wisp of smoke, a fleeting ghost that never quite settled, while a silent crown of relentless labor ruled every hour of every day. Coins fell like gentle rain, laughter wrapped in silk and shine, creating a world where comfort shaped each breath and pleasure felt almost divine. Below, a bridge of flesh and bone stretched thin across her radiant land, a path she crossed without a second thought, a tool bending to her will. Yet the roots beneath that golden tree were nurtured with careful grace, for those who breathed life into the palace were cradled in a softer, kinder place. But when a well ran deep and dry, still pouring more than it could contain, its gifts were deemed too small, its generosity met with deepening shadows. Then a storm with a thunderous voice arrived, snapping a branch without a sound, leaving a body split in pain upon the cold, unyielding ground. A wounded earth lay still and bound, slowly learning how to heal, while silence filled the empty space where warmth was once meant to be felt. Above, that distant golden light still demanded more than it could see, blind to the cracks, the quiet cries, the cost of forced humility. No shade was offered, no gentle breeze, no hand reached down from all that height, just echoes of unending need falling through the fractured night. And truth remains where silence grows some towers rise so far, so wide, they never notice the broken ground where faithful hearts are left behind.