WHAT HURTS US MOST
by J. Randal Matheny © 2011
What hurts us most we do not tell.
Instead, we bury it deep and well,
Where none can touch to cause us pain.
We would not feel this hurt again.
The soul is but a bundle of hurt;
He smiles but wears a hairy shirt.
This heavy burden, this hidden weight,
He sees as his predestined fate.
No one must know, or so he thinks;
He guards his pain like the stoic Sphinx,
While all the time he must ignore
That God has seen it all before.