February 24 2010

Blenders & The Paradox of Pain – A Poem

BLENDERS & THE PARADOX OF PAIN

a poem by Simon Camilleri  29/9/09

I put my hand into a blender and pressed the button “HIGH”
and in a flash my hand was gone and, shocked, I wondered why?

Why God? Why now? Why not THAT guy? Why’d this happen to me?
Why didn’t you just stop the blades? Or stop my hands, at least?

Aren’t I your child? Were you asleep? I thought you had my back!
I thought when I teamed up with you I’d live life free from lack.

And now I lack a whole right hand! How can you call this love??
I shook my fist (now just a wrist) at the heavens above.

I wondered how, in such a world, could God really be there?
If he exists, he’s either weak or worse, he doesn’t care!

This suffering seemed so pointless that I slowly filled with doubt.
So I thought I’d take a break from church until I’d worked it out.

So I ditched my Christian friends who all just didn’t understand.
It’s easy to say “God is good” when you have both your hands.

Yes, the complex paradox of pain would take deeper contemplation,
and what better way to think it through than in complete isolation.

See, I had lost my hand, I had lost my faith, I had lost my church and friends,
but I still had no idea just how my life had reached this end.

And as I pondered this I sat down on some railway tracks.
I began to juggle hand grenades and chainsaws to relax.

I wondered how could bad things happen to good folk like me,
as I smeared my face with honey and threw rocks at swarms of bees.

“It’s a mystery”, I finally said, “The great paradox of pain!”
and I shrugged as my left hand reached for the blender once again…

(1520)

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February 24 2010

The Pain or The Wound – A Poem

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The Pain or The Wound

One day my heart was wounded
And the pain was deep and strong.
It’s ache was like a bag of bricks
I couldn’t carry long.

I had two paths to treat the wound.
Two sources of advice.
The first one’s name was Lucifer.
The other’s name was Christ.

The first one gave me bandages
To bind the wound up tight
He told me, “Don’t expose the wound
To water, air or light.”

“Put all your focus on the pain
That’s what we need to heal.
You’ll soon forget your wounded heart
If there’s no pain to feel.”

So he subscribed me pain-killers
And drugs of every kind
Some to escape, some to excite,
And some to dull my mind.

He promised he would kill the pain.
He promised sweet relief.
His promises so promising
They almost begged belief.

But one thing he neglected
In his attractive invitation
Was to tell me of the side-effects
Of all his medication.

See, I have taken his advice
Many times in the past.
I’ve found his pain-killers to work.
They’re cheap and very fast.

But they’re also quite temporary
And with returning pain
Comes deeper wounds, and stronger aches
And isolating shame.

And so this time I think I’ll pass.
I’ll try different advice.
And so I took my wounded heart
And offered it to Christ.

He said although he knew the pain
Was deep and strong and real,
It would not go away until
The wound itself was healed.

And so he started to unwrap
The wound that was bound tight.
He said, “We must expose the wound
To water, air and light.”

He said, “This will be painful
But it is the only way.
I’ll be as gentle as I can.
We’ll take it day by day.”

“I’ll comfort you through every step
I’ll never leave your side
And very slowly I’ll unwrap
Your fear and shame and pride.

Until we reach your wounded heart
Until it is laid bare
The pain will still be present
But the healing will start there.

And in the wound I’ll shine my light
To show what was unseen
And there I’ll pour living water
So pure and fresh and clean.

And with my love and grace and truth
Your heart I will restore
And you will find more freedom
Than you ever had before.

And so Christ is the one I choose
His path is hard but real
Into his hands I place my heart
For only he can heal.

by Simon Camilleri 16/9/07

(2188)

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