More than anything
I don’t understand
why any of these privations
could have should have would have
been necessary.
I just don’t understand
what value
what benefit
what meaning
is attached to anything
that has been done.
It’s one thing to bear the weight
of the blows as they
fall upon me.
But it’s another burden again
when the sense and purpose
in those blows is absent.
What can I do with this?
How can I arrange the pieces of
this interminable experience
so that they are shaped into a form
that I can comprehend?
How can I assemble these
unruly painful fragments
into a whole that is
kind enough in its angles and
gentle enough in its sharp facets
to permit me to dwell therein
without being shredded anew
in each small movement
that I take?
More than anything
I don’t understand
and it hurts.
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