The Pain of Life
When pain invades and kills the soul,
so let it kill, but let it not desist
but go on killing with its pain,
so that it can be felt most thoroughly,
and so that you can feel the more
that you are still alive
and can survive the pain
of having your soul killed.
Thus you can also go on loving
although love is dead and murdered
since it goes on hurting and so hard,
so outrageously and intolerably hard,
so that you almost feel the more alive
for its so hurting so outrageously.
So cut no bones on me by amputation,
master barber-surgeon, for all my gangrene,
and transplant not my heart
although it is so broken;
but let me live on as long as it just hurts enough,
so that I yet may feel to still be living
all the way until I die.
Love it, full of passion in the deeper old fashioned elegant way of poetry writing. Sue.