There is No Source of the Pain

A poem

Photo by Jelleke Vanooteghem on Unsplash

There is no source of the pain.
Anger, fear.
It permeates. Seeping in. Into everything.
It’s the toothache.
It’s the ingrown toenail.
It’s the red light and the near-empty gas tank.
It’s the non-stop emails or the next few meetings.
It’s the sound of the furnace or the neighbor’s lawnmower.
It’s the regret and the potential.
It’s the mistakes made raising the kids.
It’s the fragileness of life.
Will I be loved tomorrow?

You don’t want to hear this. Try, with skepticism.
Be at ease.
Take a break from the criticism. You don’t need to find the source today.
Or tomorrow.

The clouds pass overhead. The furnace stops. Even your neighbor
Will finish their task.

Be at ease.
You are loveable.