My reading of poetry has revealed a curious imbalance. While verse overflows with explorations of emotional anguish—the heart shattered by lost love, the spirit bruised by dashed hopes and bitter disappointments—it largely neglects the persistent reality of physical pain. This absence is striking, given that physical pain is an undeniable facet of the human experience, particularly as we age.
I’m not referring to the sudden, acute pain of a stumble or a fall, but rather the chronic, nagging aches that become familiar companions: the throbbing reminder of an old injury, the stiffening grip of arthritis in aging joints, the constant weariness of overworked muscles. These are the pains that settle into the background of our lives, a constant hum beneath the surface of our days.
And beyond our own physical discomfort, there is the profound pain of witnessing suffering in those we love. This vicarious pain, the helplessness we feel as we watch a loved one endure physical or emotional torment, can be the most agonizing of all. We are confronted with the limits of our power, the stark inability to alleviate their suffering, and in that powerlessness, we experience our own profound pain. It’s a pain compounded by empathy, by the shared vulnerability of the human condition.
Poetry often seeks to offer solace, to illuminate the shared human experience and offer a path through suffering. Yet, its relative silence on the subject of persistent physical pain leaves a significant gap. Perhaps it is because physical pain is often seen as mundane, less romantic than the drama of heartbreak. Or perhaps it is because there are fewer easy metaphors for the dull ache in a knee than for a broken heart.
Like emotional pain and grief, there is no easy cure for physical suffering. We search for remedies, for relief, for some way to ease the burden. While presence—simply being there for someone in their pain—is a crucial starting point, a gesture of empathy and support, it is not a panacea. It offers comfort, but it doesn’t erase the pain itself. Ultimately, we are left to grapple with the reality of pain as an intrinsic part of life, a reminder of our shared mortality and the fragility of the human body. We need a richer poetic language to explore this dimension of human experience, a language that acknowledges the quiet persistence of physical pain and the profound impact it has on our lives, both individually and collectively.
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