We Must Suffer

a hundred brittle winters have passed
Since love broke that
yearning spine

and frigid fingers
Found fleshy places
to press               

     Fresh

like
harmless
lemons
      Smashed
by metal teeth

And yet somehow
this
   trickle
      of
         sweet Surprise
was
        Summoned

Daring and bold
she
     gathered herself

Amidst the
Reckless
sour
thrashing,

Grace making space
for her to
be another's
someday
salve

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,  who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God." II Corinthians 1:3,4