Witness

 This pain of thine is thick in my blood;
 It has bitten hard upon my heart,
 And it will not let go.
 It is a bulldog, and strong’s its hold.
 I bleed through my chest; guilt comes out
 To equalize our suffering and
 Mute my naked happiness.

 I am an exposed nerve of pain
 At the sight of your testing.
 Thy life has been Golgotha
 Without the wait of Gethsemane.
 You were clueless, not just innocent,
 Before you were broken daily
 Upon the wheel – O I hurt!

 I cannot bear this sadness
 Nor this grief: it fills my nooks
 And every cranny where rested some bliss.
 The greens of nature’s bounty –
 Even they are grey and distant
 In the crushing light of your agony.
 My heart fails me, my heart fails me… 

Featured image: ‘Sorrowing Old Man,’ by Vincent Van Gogh (1890), image in the public domain.

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2 thoughts on “Witness”

  1. Hi, Courage. Just letting you know I was here. Sad poem 😢. Life can be very grievous, or at least filled with many moments of woe. Poor guy in the painting. I think it’s himself, Van Gogh.

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