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Sufferers are silent.
a covert weight pressing on the chest,
a forecastless storm,
one night that rejects ending.
It shapes the spirit.
marks lines over the face.
learns the language of waiting
when minutes resemble stones.
The instructor nobody wants is suffering.
Still, it brings lessons clear and profound.
It removes ego.
It reveals the rough side of being human.
It says truths that solace obscures.
But inside its flame,
A weird force is created.
Wounds begin to talk of endurance.
Tears are compassion's seed.
and scars turn into maps of survival.
Suffering touches us too.
It transforms the soul.
Making knowledge out of shatteredness
and silence into songs.
Only the heart knows.