I tell myself I do not hurt,
Not any more, not again;
When Life finds a new scalpel
To test the margins of pain-
This surgery is intended
To heal me, I tell myself;
But how often must I survive
Every anaesthetic table-
Let me scream out my agony;
Why must my eyes run dry?
Who has placed this moratorium
On my need to cry?

For too long there has been no respite,
For too long there has been no rain-
The harvest in my soul has garnered
Even the husk, not merely the grain…