Questions Hanging

It hung there in the air.

Suspended like a dust mote.

I wondered, would it fall? 

Or remain hanging above us all.

It's still there above me. 

Waiting to be resolved.

Until time passes and it fades, but never quite goes away.

My life is filled with unanswered questions. 

Hanging just above my head.

Others find a way to rub them

Until they're erased off the grid

Yet somehow I've never wanted to do the same 

Because what if someday I find...The answer to a question I had. But no longer have the question in mind?

So there they gather, an eclectic clutter.

Some deep, some dark, some light, some old

There they hang. Above us all. Everytime I say hello.

I'll wonder, and the question will glow. Until someday it's light is too dim, to even register in sight.

A Good Day

A Good Day.
Is a day.
That follows the rain.
By rain I mean pain. Sorrow. Suffering. Hurt. Disappointment.
You know.

A Good Day.
Is a day.
Unlike any other day.
Because it's what follows the storm.
The sun shines brighter, of course.


A Good Day.
Is a day.
When all you hold in your hand, falls through like sand
(what a rhyme....hand and sand)

A Good Day.
Is a day.
Like today.

Because?
Well, because it holds in it something of inexpressible value.
Of uncalculated worth.

God chose to include it in the story.
The story of the world.
So of course.
it matters, it's needed.

So Here's Pain

So Here's Pain.

It came this morning. Knocking on my door.
Of course I shut the door.

Little knowing I needed what it held.

So I turned and walked into the kitchen and waved Comfort in through the back.
She told me it was alright. To sit back and relax.

We sat and chatted...comfortably of course.
She told me I was doing fine. Her words were soft and full and sweet.

Then Pain came banging on the window. Her eyebrows tightly drawn.
Said I had a sword, sticking from my side.

Turning then to Comfort, I asked here if she'd seen.

What I had somehow missed, yet was so plain to see.

Don't worry Comfort said. Look here at this picture instead. To pull it out will hurt.
To cure it...will hurt the worst.

But somehow one can't quite relax, with a sword sticking in their side. It slowed me down (imagine that)  and I couldn't put it out of mind.

So goodbye I said to Comfort. And let pain in through the door. As she helped me pull out, that ridiculously over-sized sword.

I shouldn't have a sword in my side. How did it get there you ask?

Well, it hardly mattered right then. I just had to get it out fast.

So I got it out. And Pain stayed the night. We had some good discussions about what matters and what didn't. Turns out the sword came from one of Comforts own pillows.

Now this story hardly makes sense. But Pain doesn't make much sense either.
Sorrow and Suffering too. Another language they speak those two.
But today I just think it's good to remember. That Pain has a purpose, a mission to do. Reminding me of swords in my side.

Now that's something Comfort can't do.

Be brittle?

Be brittle?

No you'll break.

Be bitter?

again it's the same.

Your mind, your heart, your words, your song

needs suppleness behind it all

grace to let it bend

and snap back

into place.