How people hurt us is the
quick slice of a small knife
compared to loss. Do you see it?
Loss is standing behind you, mocking
such pain.
Go on, Loss jeers, how can
you think to make that wound important?
When your eye drifts across
my pitted landscape in glaring heat or
silent darkness. When you withstand
the daily cresting wash of a bloodied sea?
My answer is what Rilke says;
And when we triumph over the small,
we are made petty. We can grow stronger
hearts knowing the eternal will not
be bent by us.
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