I’m sorry that you hurt, God.
I don’t know how you bear it
but I do know that I’ve been
distracted by my own aches.
I’m sorry that I can’t do much
to ease your pain. I’m sorry
that it’s so significant and so
constant. Here: let me at least
share the ice pack with you,
and we can alternate with
the heating pad. Pain meds
are pretty useless, in the
scheme of things — once
they wear off, there’s only
pain remaining — but we can
pretend they do us some good.
Just for fun, we can take out
the bandaids from the closet.
I have a tin of Jesus bandaids:
isn’t that ironic & too funny?
We can cover our wounds
with adhesive strips that say
“Jesus heals” even though he
(you) doesn’t actually make
the pain go away. Most of all,
I’m truly sorry about the pain.

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