we finally situate <br />beyond the threshold of pain <br />we sit on a chair <br />look over the window <br />extend our view to the sea <br />till the horizon <br />we familiarize with what <br />pains too do <br />with the shores and the <br />forest <br />the trees and the <br />grass <br />then we look again inward <br />like the entrails of <br />the chicken <br />we feel nothing anymore <br />those pains have <br />become a part of our skin <br />they don't do any harm <br />anymore <br />we don't even notice <br />whether they are still here <br />or they are gone <br />for good forever<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/those-pains/
