Her Pain

So, this poem is serious. It was inspired by a friend of mine whose life was completely turned upside down by a tragedy in her family, and while she sat across from me talking about it, telling me how it happened, what she had been through and how she feels, this was my inner turmoil. It's not about me, I know that. It's about her, but it was interesting to see how I was reacting to this, having never been faced with this before. This was the first time that someone who had lost a very close person in their life was directly telling me about it, usually I hear from other people, and this was different. Here we go:

She's in pain. Should I touch her?
My mind wonders, conflicted.
I see it all through her eyes,
I'm broken as she's shattered.

She's wounded.
Sorrow clouds the air
permeating it, saturating it.
She stirs. I stare-
dumbfounded. Disbelieving,
angry and hurt.

Her hurt is deep.
A gnawing throb of pain
bursting at intervals and spreading through her.
Paralyzing and conquering
till her tears are shadows hidden
by the red in her eyes.
Moist and un-shed tears,
and eyes tired of shedding.

Her pain is lost.
Like the look in her eyes.
Yet it crowds and crowds
till it looms and violently attacks.

It's catching. Contagious.
I caught the drifters of it,
the tiny air-borne bits.
While she's the queen of the molehill,
holding the core.


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