On Pain

Children cry. I cannot scream. Finding the itch is more than losing the twitch. Pain speaks every day. It speaks of the inability to remain still. A need to scream without creating pain in the immobility of discomfort. Pain is the final motivator in life besides birth. We cannot see the end which moves us to do whatever the cost of ending pain. I cannot move beyond the agony of what is before my sensors now! A failure to hear clearly the grey final push that moves a daily mass into the agony of excruciating pain. Daily, daily, daily. With measures of levels and attempts to box into something that might help to define pain as sufferable.