Try, Again

It hurts to feel, so much you cry,

Telling self you’d rather die,

Knowing not what it is you say.

One bled and died yesterday

To keep you going, anyway.

To hurt, you think, you’d rather not,

But in your hurt you find self caught.

With every ounce of heart-life gave,

You suppose you’ll somehow save

That same, spoon-fed life you gave.

In midst of hurt, you search high and low,

For sanctuary to which you’ll go.

All the while, pained and alone,

Seeds of self-hatred sown

Of which you have hardly known.

Your embattled, wound-spattered heart

Must find some miraculous restart.

Spiritually-trained personnel

Stand ready to walk with you through your hell

Into which, so long past, you fell.

What do you say? What will you do?

Move through fire with friends to help you?

Choose to turn to One who bled?

Learn and relearn words He’s said?

Feast on heart-manna you’re meant to be fed?

Asks one whose whole soul is scarred,

Whose heart, also, is battered and marred.

Like a broken, beaten up fool, again

I’ll ask if you’ll try, try, try it again.

Will you not try feeling, again?

Adam Scott Campbell