Pain a blessing

 

No one wants pain,

No one wants to feel the heartbreak,

No one is willing to have their souls broken in a million pieces,

Beyond repair,

No one wants to experience the sting of that crushed despair.

 

And I hope so too,

That no one should feel pain.

I would like to say this world is painless,

But that would make me a liar.

And I do not love the world so much, to lie for it.

 

We say, we bless, we pray,

For our loved ones not to feel that ache.

That sensation of your heart, shattering under the impossible weight,

The sound of your soul, giving up, broken too further, lost forever.

Eyes ablaze like fire,

Your spirit, flown away, lost in the burning of desire.

 

When things go wrong, we blame the element we think of first, Pain.

For this shielded world of ours, has put a constraint,

It does not let us think beyond what we know already,

And so, even pain,

Buckles under the strain of blame.

 

And one day, what we thought was permanent,

Will leave us too,

Behind, in the dusted grounds of time.

And what we all hoped for, will come true.

But, alas, hope, too has consequences.

It shows just one side of things,

It does not mirror the possibilities, and the destruction it brings.

 

Has anyone thought about, what would happen if pain disappeared?

If the world would become painless,

Our life would become aimless.

What would be the point of waking up, living and dying?

And if there is no pain, then how can there be death?

For isn’t death a kind of pain?

 

Pain, Pain makes us want to start again.

Isn’t pain responsible for bringing hope, when we are filled with despair?

Pain makes us regret too, and if we would never regret, we would never value.

Fear, another kind of pain.

Without fear, we would never have courage, there would be no gain.

 

So how can you say pain should disappear?

It’s responsible for joy, as it is for tears,

For courage as it is for fear,

For hope as it is for despair,

For care and repair.

 

Pain, laces our broken souls,

And fills it with the kind of energy,

Only those who have suffered know.

It takes our soft, young hands,

And hardens them like the experienced stone.

 

In the end, it is not hope which helps us,

Nor is it courage.

In the end, when all these virtues, leave us,

Behind in the shadowed, unknown lands of time,

 

It is pain, which makes us speak for ourselves,

It is pain which produces all those heroes we know,

It is pain, which makes us stand for ourselves,

For without it we would not stand,

Simply fall.

 

- Shriya Nauhria