The Jewel of Suffering

Tell me, which suffering is heavier to bear? Which wound cuts the deepest? I asked, How do I make suffering easier? How do I soften the blade? He said, Find the spring of life. Let its water fall over your head, let it be armor, so no blade may wound you again. I asked, Where is this spring? He said, In the darkness. If you seek it, you must walk wrapped in the armor of trust,

I asked, Which way is the way? He said, From whichever way you go. If you go, go!

My life is a riddle: Who am I? Why am I here? I chase answers, but which worlds are real? Each morning, I pull myself into my skin, play the game others seem to know. How do they bear their bodies, carry their pain? I make art to remember what I lost, to carve meaning into loss itself. i moved to different cities Each city is bigger, but the answers stay small. but this city I am tired. This city I am old. This city, I lost faith. Now I have gained nothing. Why am I writing in English? Scattered thoughts, echoes of rage, hating my mother, loving her ghost. The world is unfinished, a life lived in a state of emergency. I translate moments into something visible, to see them. so they do not haunt me in the dark, so I do not have to be afraid anymore.

Oh

It is morning again.