There is pain so real you can die and still feel it

Pain stamped by rejection

Fueled by scorn

Accented by indifference

Perfected by injustice

Pain that comes from being…

And from being what others do not desire


There is pain for every thought, every step, every creative interchange

Pain that lodges itself in the conscience, closing doors that invite the sun in

Pain knows no limits, asks no permission, seeks no reward

The scourge of pain is its familiarity

Pain wins when it is no longer rare


Show me a man this side of life who can cure all pain

And I will show you a villain

For one who destroys all that is unpleasant

Will also with it bring an end to struggle


For there is struggle as old as the world

And struggle as deep as the thoughts of men

Struggle that harpoons the heart and

Guillotines the mind

Struggle is pain dressed in Sunday’s clothes

Without it we simply go on living

If we are lucky at all


Ivanildo C. Trindade