Today I was reading through a book of Emily Dickinson's poems, during Int'l Business Class, and I came upon a poem that has to do with pain. I know that I wrote a blog a few days ago concerning pain, but the pain I am talking about today is real pain- the kind of pain that hurts worse than any physical beating.
Pain-has an Element of Blank-
It cannot recollect
When it begun- or if there were
A time when it was not-
It has no Future- but itself-
Its infinite contain
Its Past- enlightened to perceive
New Periods- of Pain.
- Emily Dickinson
I feel like that sometimes. Like I can't remember when the pain came or what it was like before it arrived. The question that intrigues me most is whether or not it has left or if I have just become used to it. The pain is good though, I think. Brokenness is needed....just how broken must one be? is the question. I am starting to find joy in the pain however. Not that sick kind! More like a joy that comes through the realization of a change, a change that beckons, if it will bring more change, for more pain.
Change
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