Friend to Pain

A scraped-up knee, a childish cry,
Would bring a mother rushing by.
A kiss would calm the ache inside,
And tears quickly turned to pride.

But years can pass and still we long
For someone to say, “You’ve suffered wrong.”
We nurse the wounds we should release,
While clinging to pain instead of peace.

Some wear their sorrow like a crown,
Afraid to lay their burdens down.
For sympathy can soothe the soul,
And fill a deep emotional hole.

They tell their stories once again,
Reliving every hurt and pain.
Not always seeking to be free,
But craving comfort endlessly.

The wound becomes a trusted place,
For sympathy and heartfelt grace.
Although their chains may hurt and bind,
They fear the healing they might find.

For if the scar should truly heal,
Would anyone still care or feel?
Would silence meet their quiet room,
Like fading flowers stripped of bloom?

Yet healing waits with gentle hands,
And freedom calls with kind commands.
Peace begins when hearts decide
No longer in the hurt to hide.

The soul can learn a better way
Than living wounded day by day.
Our God restores what pain once tore,
And gives a love worth far much more.