If Pain Had a Face ~ by Rhonda Law

If pain had a face,
Then surely you’d see,
The demon that’s living,
Inside of me.
The knotted and tangled,
Monster within,
The fire and brimstone,
From this pain that I’m in.
My struggles and misery,
From my daily climb,
My impossible searching,
For relief I can’t find.
My hopes and my dreams,
They just fade away,
Because of the pain,
I suffer each day.
From pills to prayers,
In search of a cure,
But this body’s still broken,
Only pain is for sure.
But, though pain is constant,
And so very real,
No one sees my struggle,
Of how it makes me feel.
The internal torture,
The guilt and remorse,
Pushing and pulling,
And smiles I must force.
So please do not judge me,
Or deny I’m in pain,
Because I’m not pretending,
I’ve nothing to gain.
Respect and compassion,
Will go a long way,
To make this life easier,
Get me through one more day.

By: Rhonda Law
find the original and much more amazing poetry linked below:
https://www.facebook.com/RhondaLawPoetry/?fref=nfif pain had a face

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Unsolicited advice and assumptions.

Dear Woman in Target-
I’ve heard it before, you know. That I “spoil that baby”. You were convinced that she’d never learn to be “independent”. I smiled at you, kissed her head, and continued my shopping.

If you only knew what I know.

If you only knew how she spent the first ten months of her life utterly alone inside a sterile metal crib, with nothing to comfort her other than sucking her fingers.

If you only knew what her face looked like the moment her orphanage caregiver handed her to me to cradle for the very first time–fleeting moments of serenity commingled with sheer terror. No one had ever held her that way before, and she had no idea what she was supposed to do.

If you only knew that she would lay in her crib after waking and never cry–because up until now, no one would respond.

If you only knew that anxiety was a standard part of her day, along with banging her head on her crib rails and rocking herself for sensory input and comfort.

If you only knew that that baby in the carrier is heartbreakingly “independent” –and how we will spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years trying to override the part of her brain that screams “trauma” and “not safe”.

If you only knew what I know.

If you only knew that that baby now whimpers when she’s put down instead of when she is picked up.

If you only knew that that baby “sings” at the top of her lungs in the mornings and after her nap, because she knows that her chatter will bring someone to lift her out of her crib and change her diaper.

If you only knew that that baby rocks to sleep in her Mama’s or her Papa’s arms instead of rocking herself.

If you only knew that that baby made everyone cry the day she reached out for comfort, totally unprompted.

If you only knew what I know.

“Spoiling that baby” is the most important job I will ever have, and it is a privilege. I will carry her for a little while longer–or as long as she’ll let me–because she is learning that she is safe. That she belongs. That she is loved.

If you only knew…

By Kelly Dirks

Originally posted as linked here –https://www.facebook.com/kelly.dirkes/posts/10209140925670578

Posted in compassion, expression, healing, Love Harmony, pain, Uncategorized, understanding | Leave a comment

What to Do with Our Pain. {Poem}

What do we do with our pain—our heartbreak, our self-doubt, our fear, our anger, our jealousy, our agony?

What do we do with the stinging tears, sharp betrayals, hanging resentments and fluttering insecurities?

Life is rough, tough and cruel—just as brutally bitter as it is breathtakingly beautiful.

Our hearts can get bruised and banged up on this perilous, gorgeous journey.

So, what do we do with our pain?

Do we ignore it—throw it away, stuff it under a pretty smile or bury it under the sea?

Do we flee from it, ‘til it bubbles up like a volcano and knocks us off our feet?

No.

What do we do with our pain?

There is only one thing to do with our pain, and it is the most powerful choice we could ever make—
We have to face it.

To look at it—to not turn away.

Yes.

What do we do with our pain?

We breathe into it.

We feel it.

We let it drip into our raw hearts, like honey.

We breathe into it—we feel it.

We relax into the gritty mud of suffering, unfolding like a lotus flower in the sea.

We let each ping of discomfort open us, like a key—
We breathe into it—we feel it.

And sh*t, we feel like we’re going to die—
We sob and we scream,
Tears rain down our chins violently.

But we don’t die,
Oh no—
We become more vibrantly alive.

We become impossibly beautiful.

We become raw, deliciously soft—tender inside.

Because our pain is everyone’s pain,
We all share the same sh*tty suffering, though we too often forget it.

Because to open our heart to ourselves,
Even for the tiniest moment,
Is to open our heart to life.

It is to kiss the universe.

Pain is not a curse, not a burden, not a disaster—it’s a blessing.

Hold it lightly, it’s the sacred vine that sews us together,
It’s the sweet ripening flowers of connection and compassion.

Because our pain is everyone’s pain.

Our tears are everyone’s tears, our fear is everyone’s fear, our grief is everyone’s grief.

So let us not turn away from discomfort, it is a succulent flavor of this life,
Let us turn gently inward instead.

Because when we open our hearts to ourselves—

When we stay in the juicy, crashing center of unpleasantness
For even the tiniest moment,
We breathe radical gentleness into life.

We kiss the universe.

We pour love into the world.

We make magic from our tears.

So—let us stop running away,
Turning away when life gets tough.

Let us soften, let us look our suffering right in its face
And feel it—and breathe.

Let us be there for our own hearts.

Let us become fantastic, gentle warriors
Of soul.

Author: Sarah Harvey

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