I See Your Pain

 I See Your Pain

I see your pain.

My imperfect human heart hugs yours,

Though it feels  crushed 

under the weight of sufferings' strangulating hold

and mind wants nothing more than to pull back,

I am learning,  through steady  practice,

to stand my ground 

and not look away.

Though I cannot fix it...

I see your pain.

You tell me,

I seem so cold and distant

 as I stand above you

in my mechanical detachment, 

but these tears that trickle  down my cheek

are warm and real.

Though I cannot fix it,

I see your pain.

This hand that reaches out,

though cold and trembling,

weak and tired, 

wants to offer you that which

lays beneath this aging form.

I long to feel 

those  clenched up fingers of yours

opening and  relaxing into my sweaty palm

where my own life force,

escapes in a natural desire

to mix with yours,

to mix with the world's. 

Life touching Life,

 as all made up

borders and boundaries disappear

is what we all long for,

whether we know it or not.. 

You pull your hand away

but I do see your pain. 

Though I cannot fix it....

I see your pain.

I do not validate outwardly

in the way  you want me to with:  

"Poor you" and "This is not fair." 

Instead,  I stand here quietly,

absent of advice,

absent of expression,

absent of solutions as to how

to fix it 'out here',

so you can feel better "in there"

but I see it. 

Though I can not fix it,

I see your pain.

I  see the prison walls 

the  names, labels and diagnosis'  

have built around you,

making your world so small

and your discomfort so great. 

I see those busy hands of yours

reaching through the bars

and fidgeting about in an attempt 

to control and manipulate 

all that exists around you 

so it doesn't get past your shields.

I see them reaching, seeking, clinging 

to anything  "out here" 

that brings comfort "in there".

I see them somewhat apologetically 

grasping for numbing relief

if they  cannot stop the  arrows from

getting through 

to  your tender spots.

I also see the  chain mail 

you have wrapped around 

your fragile, broken heart. 

in hope of protecting it 

from all the unpredictable 

arrows life may throw your way.

I see your fear.

Though I cannot fix it,

I see your pain.

I see the pain in you,

I see the same pain in the world.

And there is so much.

I am still tempted at times

to resort to old  habit tendencies,

  I so want  to squeeze my eyes shut 

when the  images of dirty faced,  

and starving children 

with their swollen bellies and fleshless legs

unfold before me.

I want to drown out the homeless beggars'

plea for work, for food, for  help

or simply to be seen,

as I walk by with my cellphone to my ear. 

I am so tempted  to turn my back on those, 

who so lost in their own pain,

do desperate things to undeserving others.

I want to pretend that innocent beings 

are not getting sick,

not hurting  and are not dying

needlessly 

all over the world for reasons that do not

make sense to me: war, poverty,  a lack of care,

arrogance, prejudice and greed.

The world is constantly showing me,

in flickering flashes that pierce my retinas

and pierce my heart...

that there is suffering in it.

I want to close my eyes, turn away 

or pretend otherwise

but I don't,

not anymore.

I see what is there for me to see.

I cannot fix it,

 but I see your pain. 

My mind often tells me, 

that  the pain is too much

for this imperfect human form to carry.

It fearfully warns me 

that my own tiny  heart 

will  be smothered to death by it,

that this  little being I call "me" 

will not be able to withstand the weight 

of all the suffering I see, 

including the suffering I see in you. 

It tells me to look away 

but I don't....

not any more.

Though I cannot fix it,

I see your pain.

I understand your resistance,

I do.

I, too, once wrapped my heart in 

stories and  armour so it

would not be overwhelmed by the suffering in this world,

the suffering I assumed the world forced upon me,

but the armour proved to be more constricting 

than the suffering. 

I took it off...

and now my heart  is raw, vulnerable, 

terrified and excited 

as it beats in a desire to be open,

expanding more and more with everything I see. 

Through my own practice 

of embracing and welcoming all that is,

I see your pain

more clearly than I have ever seen it before..

Though I cannot fix it, 

I see your pain.

I also see beyond  your pain.

When I stand back

just a step, just a breath away from it, 

I see the ugliness, yes

but I also see the beauty.

I see the darkness, yes,

but I also see the light.

I see the chaos, yes,

but I also see the order.

I can see the perfection in it all.

When I relax into what is,

the  human part of me  feels

while the being part of me sees.

It is a perfect combination. 

My human heart cries for you 

but my soul rejoices

as it cries out,  "And this too!!

This too...this too belongs."

I see how all of it belongs, my love,

all of it.

The beauty belongs  

and the ugliness...they are One.

The rightness of the world belongs 

and the wrongness of it...they are one. 

The light belongs

and the darkness...they are one.

The 10,000 joys belong,

as do  the 10,000 sorrows...they are one.

I see it all...

and though I can not fix it,

I do see your pain.

At the same time

I look upon the ugly darkness 

that appears to be consuming you....

I can see past your expressions of agony,

past your shields and defenses, past  your resistance; 

I see past  your wounds and broken pieces

to the heart of you....

 beating, beating, beating

in perfect rhythm,

undisturbed by any of it

as it prepares you

 with each constricted splash of blood

for an opening and release

that will save you from yourself . 

I see the light ,

I see your freedom

waiting  beyond the heavy veil of your  pain,

waiting for you to allow it all in.

Just allow it all in , 

by opening your eyes and heart  to what is.

Though I can not fix it, 

I see your pain...

my love, 

and it is glorious.  

Dale-Lyn, March, 2023