Just A Drop for the Pain

Maybe it’s the rumble of empty stomachs

that makes it hard to understand what was said.

Maybe it’s the ache of backs that have worked too hard

with too little to show for it

making it difficult to comprehend.

It’s a toxic brew –

shame, from knowing it isn’t enough,

fear, of loosing what little there is,

distrust, of the dimly understood other.

It can cause a nasty ache,

and make a person beg

the nearest traveling salesman

for the tonic to make it all go away.

No one minds a drop of snake oil

when the numbness finally starts.

The ache that was a warning

that something more deep and dreadful

is eating you from the inside is stilled.

The price for miracle? Your eyes.

You might start to hurt again

if you saw the ache in others.

Let the nice man with the oil have them.

He might eat them.

He might stuff them up his nose.

He might wear them in his hair.

Who cares?

You aren’t in pain.

Isn’t that all that matters?

Yesterday's News by Shelle Kennedy

Visit her blog, Sunshine Shelle, for more terrific art work!

Song Choice: Do the Evolution by Pearl Jam 

This poem was prompted by Magaly Guerrero's Poetry for the Cruelest Month: Idiots Herding the Blind