Beauty and the Beast

   My spiritual poems are posted on prayerclub.net, and my personal poems are given to whomever they are written for, then filed away.  But once in a while I have a poem that's sort of in between ~ not spiritual enough for prayerclub, and not so personal that it must be filed.  The following is one of those, written for one friend, but perhaps useful to many.  As you read it, keep in mind that the "beast" is not a person, but a thing: pain.

Beauty and the Beast

Attempted smiles cannot conceal

The agony of soul I feel.

The  tears that aren’t allowed to flow

Still in my whole demanor show.

The  more I try to hide my pain,

The more it makes its presence plain.

Some poeple say I must “Let go,”

But how to do it, I don’t know.

I do not choose to keep the knife

That cut my heart and drains my life.

I’ve often thrown the thing away —

But stubborn pain remains to stay.

If I can find some victory,

I think a better way will be,

Instead of letting go, embrace —

And look the monster in the face.

For pain’s a beast, yet after all

His power over me is small.

He has the power to make me cry

And make me sometimes wish to die,

But this is mighty small indeed:

To cause a wounded heart to bleed.

He hasn’t power to make me doubt —

Or think my God has cast me out.

However deep the  sword my smite,

With all its boasted, beastly might:

However much I feel the smart

Of pain in my afflicted heart;

However chastened by His rod,

It cannot turn me from my God.

And pain I’ve barely understood

May yet be used by God for good—

And thus the beast I’d gladly miss

I now by faith embrace and kiss.

With trembling I recoil and wince —

Yet trust that he’ll become a prince.