Pain
The shelves full of books cannot help me
My dead mother leans through 45 years
to tell me: It's ok that you couldn't help me
I couldn't even help myself, except to die
& now pain is teaching me dying is not the worst
To lie curled up in a ball of pain is not the worst
I have a comfortable bed, I have a couch
I have doctors & friends who try to help me
I am not lying outside on the earth, for fear
my soon-to-be ghost might haunt the house
I am not alone in a hospital with no doctors,
no beds, no drugs, where the soldiers wait outside
No, this is not the worst, God makes pain but
men make worse pain, the cold wind
is never tempered to the shorn lamb,
& what pain teaches you is pain