The Absence of Pain
by Biljana Petrova
A door in the floor
A window on the ceiling
And a lifetime of pain reeling
Trapped in the careless arrangement
In this cathedral of pain.
The architects are missing
The archways are kissing the stone cold walls
And the spires aspire to no desire
Suffering is a painted glass reflecting its own
Following, a congregation of lonely people
Shying away the other lonely people
For fear of false attribution.
The absence of pain is evidence.
Evidence missing is no proof that pain
Never got trapped in the awkwardly positioned door.
And the shadow darkening the hall is just another flaw
In what was supposed to be a temple to analgesia.
It's no good to remember.
And it makes no heart grow fonder.
It's plain absence, covered up by crafty design.
Echoes are portents of good news.
One day all this will be meaningless.
It is meaningless even now.
Once the eye refuses to be blind to see
It will all come back to me.