-void

does it hurt so much
to hurt so little
there you are tongue tied
ever so brittle
a sway of emotion
traumatised, fickle
-W.E.

some people are looking for the easiest way out,
there’s nothing you can do,
to convince them that through the forges of fire,
are swords for men formed,
there’s no hope in pushing beyond,
no port in the storm.

they cannot see that past pain and suffering,
comes healing and calm,
they cannot conceive that,
there is soothing and balm.

a life of emptiness, and privilege,
there’s no harp at the end,
only the immediacy of their displacement,
and searching for mend.

the fact they cannot hurt,
hurts them the most,
but it is a buried comprehension,
even if they knew, would not disclose.

but for the visceral,
for the cut open of breast,
we live by this pain,
and pander at its manifest.

to feel every droplet,
and ounce of suffering go by,
live as far from detachment,
and the self importance lies.

we’re anything but brittle,
and do nothing to disguise,
despair not from turmoil,
cry not, nor agonise.

find us here, not wallowing,
not in need of attention,
rising up and beyond,
living with our affliction.

look at our battles,
and the scars we have earned,
and the savvy dealings we’ve had,
lifelong lessons we’ve learned.

we’re not waiting for approval,
nor for your hand or salute,
quite content to be convoys of healing,
even if only a lonely flute.

we’ll continue to gather this hurt,
against the fancies of the world,
as they live in comfort, we’ll continue with resilience,
and be the human ghee through knurl.
-W.E.