The Mystery of Pain

Pain has an element of blank;

It cannot recollect

When it began, or if there were

A day when it was not.

It has no future but itself,

Its infinite realms contain

Its past, enlightened to perceive

New periods of pain.

Emily Dickinson (1830 – 1886)


The fury and the rage…

Sudden with random tears

Briefly hot and spent

Leaving horror and fear

No voice did moan

Not an utterance was heard

Only the intake of air…

Silence still rules