Suffering–“I’m not OK”–has seasons.
From time to time we’re summoned to confront
A new lack of wholeness that comes for reasons
We may or might not deserve. The affront
Will confront the “me I was”: Grow or die.
And I must meet the new, unfinished “me”
That I’m now. Truths that once would fortify
My soul have vanished. I’m an amputee
In agony, alone and not OK.
Yet only now can reintegration
Be possible. And as I richochet
Between loss and hope, a new creation
Is born. It’s hard. As I walk these days of wrath
May love and grace and angels guide my path.
This sonnet was inspired by listening to a discussion on suffering by pediatric palliative care doctor Ray Barfield.