Pain of Persistence
This poem is a cathartic release for me, excuse my mess.
I can’t take it anymore..
and yet, I do.
Still breathing through bruised hours,
still rising like a prayer
too tired to touch the sky.
I’m tired of being tried,
of resilience rusting into ritual,
my shine dimmed down
to something dull and scraped,
as if I was made to be
the leather on life’s knuckles.
I don’t even know who I fight for.
Maybe it’s me.
Maybe it’s the world.
Maybe it's no one.
Maybe it’s the ache that refuses to leave
without first being understood.
Some days,
pain does not knock.
It breaks the lock and walks in,
wiping its feet on my soul,
demanding I offer it tea
and call it a guest.
And I, weary temple,
I still host.
Still hold.
Still carry.
Shattered glass pretending to be
a stained-glass window,
expected to glow with grace
as if the cracks were never there.
They are.
But maybe so am I.
About the Creator
Lolly Vieira
Welcome to my writing page where I make sense of all the facets of myself.
I'm an artist of many mediums and strive to know and do better every day.
https://linktr.ee/lollyslittlelovelies
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More stories from Lolly Vieira and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Dart at Dusk
Seconds ago, the sullen sun set on the two of us… my exuberant furry companion and me. A fresh breeze embraces us, delivering welcome relief from the day’s oppressive heat. His typical stumbling and staggering along — apace with a sloth — has turned into trip-trapping, high-stepping, almost skipping along.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶about 13 hours ago in Petlife
Comments (1)
Wow! This is such a powerful piece, Lolly! The characterization of pain in the lines, "It breaks the lock and walks in, wiping its feet on my soul, demanding I offer it tea and call it a guest" was so incredibly well done.