Like a soft breeze that, barely there, sifts the papers on my table. <br />A window, open, and the curtains move gently. <br />A memory, that should not have been there. <br />An emotion that barely acknowledged should have known better. <br /> <br />Some serious men dissected my emotions. <br />An existence that, in existing, forgot to be. <br /> <br />A faraway pain, like a bird, alights on my hand, <br />Some ice on distant mountains settles in my heart. <br />All my experiences could not help me to understand <br />Why pain has be analysed, why the soul in crisis <br />Has to dissect, react and realise. <br /> <br />Pain is more than a commodity <br />More than a substance that can be caged <br />Artists and poets have used it in its intensity <br />And often, often sunk under the weight of its density. <br /> <br />I am one with this emotion. <br />It has become a part of this whole. <br />Remove it now and then I fear <br />That it will leave a painful, abyssmal hole.<br /><br />Rani Turton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/analysing-that-pain/
