The Temporary Cure

The Temporary Cure

The pain has changed me, I complain.
Thinking the tears which come unbidden
have finally reached their end, they swell again
from hidden cisterns. The pain has let loose the reins
that held so much fear in check. But now the angry beast
burns beneath my brow, explodes through my dreams and
schemes to make no good thing worthwhile.

Embraces do not change it, words do not erase it,
heat and ice, the temporary cure, awakes my thinking until
room temperature steals every good thought away.

I scream alone, I reach the dead-end abandoned.
Once a cul-de-sac, and now rusted trashcans blow through
the idle plot where friends grilled out back. Picnics were
life and health;

The pain has changed all that.

Hiking the woods, camping and smelling like smoke,
charring marshmallows and reading a good book, fighting
the moths for light. Exploration and warm sun were
brisk and joy;

The pain has changed all that.

My friends see the creases, my teeth gnash, my jaw grits,
my eyes burn, my ears echo every background noise like
nuisances intruding quiet meditation;

The pain has caused all that.

Friends love, but few call; what can they say?
God loves, but still hides; where has He flown?
The pain reprimands the kindest phrases, excuses
and amazes the man a decade ago who woke at
midnight to sit with a friend,
talked all night to calm a storm,
walked all day, conversation to coffee and back,
and had time to play before the sun retracted its rays.

The pain has changed all that.
The pain has changed me and I don’t know
how
to get me back.