With A Sweeping Away Of Deep Secret Weepings Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

When a pain is felt,
Until a numbness appears.
Who is best qualified...
To declare the depth,
Of the hurt felt dealt.
And the healing that nears,
Of the agony one alone has to clear.
Who better is best qualified,
To feel what that is...
And how that feels from inside?

Some unfeeling this,
Expect quick steps to get over it.
As if recovery from a sorrow,
Is borrowed.
To be clocked to stop at midnight.
Not to go on beyond tomorrow.

Heartbreak no one fakes.
Even though it may seem to have gone.
The one bearing it...
Knows whether it is there or not.
To be there until it quits.
Until the feeling of it drops!
With it moving on.

When someone wounds another,
In a revenge one seeks.
Why is it accepted,
A forgiveness may be sought...
With a forgetting believed,
Has been granted and reached!

Only one can say,
When a personal pain has gone away.
And until that is expressed...
No one else can profess,
What to do and how to do it!
Or which remedy is best!
How it is applied...
And in which way to push this aside.

It is there to be felt...
Until it leaves!
And the grieving with it has gone.
With a sweeping away of deep secret weepings,
From a place they had stayed!
And all teardrops have dried.