I’m only looking to post this mail <br />I don’t know if it will get through <br />To the hostel where you daily seek a kind of health <br /> <br />And stumbling to my hill <br />I can’t ensure a forward path <br />To hospitals where they will seek to call you ill <br /> <br />It isn’t clear <br />That you aren’t horizontal, flat or broke – <br />Or lucky with the government, provision for the unemployed <br /> <br />There’s not been a cough or word <br />Since we cooked and laughed in Coventry <br />And you told me how your mother said that you should marry me <br /> <br />I only have discovered <br />In this brief and frothing brew of my affection <br />A little aphoristic pill that puts us sane above the rest: <br /> <br />It would be cynical to cure <br />All the suffering we are, to contain <br />The pain we see, with art, of any quality.<br /><br />Frank Bana<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-suffering-we-are/
