Pain

Pain is how we feel and know that we are alive.
And yet what breathes air into us can become a sharpening lack of contentment.
Suddenly we figure it out, but can't fit the pieces together.
Tears that our hands and hearts and minds try to hold, overflow our souls.
Even if we don't let them flow they do.
Surging like a spring river breaking ice.
Breaking thin sheets of glass leaving us only to swim after the pieces and drown.
I'm alone again. Pain spreads without a rhythm. Leaving me here.
So I'm alive but in pain and sharpness and I can't even try to feel whole without it.