by Pavel Chichikov
Loved ones stumble, lose their wits
And she whose child eyes wore a skin
As if a sugar berry weeps
Acid, swears as if she knew no one
And all forgotten curses, fights
Demonizes shrouded sights
That none can see but she –
All suffering is mystery
To Him who also bore like pain
It was a bafflement, for He
Was like the rest except for sin –
All suffering is mystery
And all who bear for others, self
Sharp pity, helpless charity
Must wonder how the cross was borne –
Love often seems a cross of stone
All suffering is mystery
The dying child too frail to bear
Herself, must iron shackles wear
Of terminal debility
All suffering is mystery
For why create such agony
In sentient, insentient
Creation, all saints' puzzlement
All suffering is mystery
Toward dissolution makes us turn
By suffering and grief we earn
And yet must wait in pain the righteous time
All suffering is mystery
The worst is to despair alone
Which causes Him who grieved to say:
My piteous child, My own
My piteous child, it is My sorrow
Which you and I both share, and borrow
For I too wept the white and red
Sharp tears of suffering and dread
All suffering is mystery
Resolved into infinity
Where I have gone and you will go
And there we both will see
Visit Pavel's website at Grey Owl Press.
Note: Pavel will read selections of his poetry at Franciscan University (Steubenville, OH) on January 25, 2002. For more information contact Pavel Chichikov.
