G-d, the pain, it sears, it stabs
Upon my delicate conscience dabs;
It huffs and it puffs, it bangs its fists
Till all that’s left is pain in its midst;
I try to grasp, to grip, to hold
But to pain my conscience has been sold;
Now all that remains is ice so cold
That no amount of heat can mold;
I try to remember what’s right and wrong
But this murky darkness is much too long;
Right and left, the hazy same
Without even a victim to blame;
The knives with which I’ve fought the black
Now have stabbed me in the back;
All’s painted and blinded dark
Breathing down the sense of lark;
All’s evil and I am too
Can’t tell between lies and true;
I search and search for desire to search
But with bloody fingers I emerge;
Pure desire now reigns within
My heart has descended to treason;
I am blinded, basked in hate, in hate
Never could keep up with the rate;
Bearing all impossible pain
Pretending, convincing that I’m still sane;
At night my memories sometimes plague
From somewhere pure yet far too vague;
G-d, the pain, it hurts so much
Never yet as bad as such;
Somewhere far too deep to reach
If the density I can somehow breach;
Beneath the murkiest rivers of pain
Perhaps confined by the thickest chain;
My heart calls out, the faintest cry
My conscience that should have long gone dry;
They squirm beneath the holes been dug
Memories of that golden tug;
Thinking back to when it screeched
It spoke of truth, bellowed, preached
How I miss those days when I still felt
When tears still caused my soul to melt;
When bad was something far away
When light was something begging to stay;
When pain was something I can face
When I was something I can base;
G-d, the pain, it sears, it stabs
Upon my delicate conscience dabs;
Pain has washed it all away
Now, my conscience, you’ve gone astray;
Oh, my conscience, my soul shall burn
Burn and yearn for you to return…
About the Creator
Rachel Steinmetz
Written expression is emotion at its peak; delve into it.
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