

I wrote this in a writing session in early October. The way it turned out, I used the prompt in the title.


I wrote this in a writing session in early October. The way it turned out, I used the prompt in the title.

The cure for the pain is in the pain
Rumi says. This is what I read in a post by Tara Brach.
Hey, Friend,
These Rumi words have been playing in my head – on and off – for weeks now. We all see pain. A lot of the time. In a lot of places. We all feel pain. Sometimes we know. At times I did not. Not even that it was pain, that feeling. We all have pain. I believe. From what I saw and felt.
And I don’t like it. Pain. I used to say that. Often. Then I began to qualify. I don’t like unnecessary pain. For myself. For others. For others, especially. It used to make me angry. Why wage war on Ukraine, for example? Unnecessary and painful. Why ignore what your friend needs? Unnecessary and painful. For both of us. Why leave the table dirty, when you get up and go? Utterly unnecessary and pinprick painful. For your neighbor and your mind.
Cure for the pain: clean the table. Yup. Now. Cure for the pain: mind your friend as you mind yourself. Just do it. As they say in some advertising. Cure for the pain: learn that no country is ever yours. As president, pawn, or peon. Just steward. Steward just. And serve.
Then the opposite of pain is peace. Cured. And the word cure is somehow related to care.

| Noch 17. Januar 1991 Schuhe noch nicht zu- gebunden schlugen Bomben meinen Schlafkopf Morgen peitschte Radiowellen Sündengeißen treiben Seit Uhr wird ge- schlagen heilige Schlacht Moscheen scheinen Wunderlampen Öl ver- siegt Himmel dämmert Abbruch Noch … | Still January 17, 1991 Shoelaces still not tied bombshells beat my dream head morning whipped radio waves scape nannies stay afloat Since a.m. we are blasting back holy war mosques queer magic lamps oil runs dry sky dawning abruption Still … |
I have rediscovered this poem, which I wrote in German on January 17, 1991. I woke up that morning and found a note on top of two library books: Could you return the book on top and renew the other one? Thank you. PS: You might not want to turn on the radio.
This is a text for my year-long online writing course Uncovering the Authentic Self on dailyom.com. The prompt was rediscovery. Previous texts are on Home and Giving.
Rediscovering this poem, editing it a bit, and translating it into English today reminded me that I only wrote poetry again twenty years after in 2011.