this is how it’s supposed to be.
you’re supposed to be begging
your knees should ache from kneeling
& your chest should be heavy
with the weight of it all.
if you don’t fall to your knees now
& then, swearing up and down
you can’t take it any more—
how can you know the limits
of your own heart?
& if you don’t cry out
all the while hoping in secret
that your folly can continue—
how do you know what it is
to be humbled?
the truth is contained in your weeping.
you will be in some form of discomfort every moment of your life
of that you may be certain.
& sometimes discomfort gives way to pain & pain to grief
& you will pray because other than death
there is no place to go for relief.
but notice as you weep how sweet
is the sound of a loved one’s voice
or the vision of their memory
in your heart.
feel the sweetness when the right music
matches the cadence of your sorrow
or the delight in your bones
when a single word offers comfort.
of pain you may be certain
but be certain also
of the remedy of Spirit.
they go hand in hand
it cannot be otherwise.