Here’s what I can do:
I can sit beside you
all through the long night,
your hand in my hand,
and tell you how beloved
you are and why,
and every favorite thing
I know about you
(and you and even you.)
I can paint a picture
of the way your music
makes my soul dance.
But I can never rest easy
in the thought of your pain.
Even though my own has often
yielded, believe it or not,
my favorite fruits,
I cannot wish for a harvest,
however beautiful,
in the garden of your hurt.
Were it within me,
you would never
feel a thing but joy.
Except, I’m not sure I’d be right,
and you would miss
so much of life,
and the world would
miss so much of you,
born in the hard things.
Still, I can never rest easy
in the pain of those I love.
So I guess I’ll just rest uneasy,
right here, beside you.
Reverend Fem 
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