Sifting through some stuff; found this Rilke poem in an old letter my sister, Jessie, wrote to me in 2001. This morning, Manny, my pastor, said some things about suffering that I found to be important to me. This poem echoes some of those notions...
It feels as though I make my way
through massive rock
like a vein of ore
I am so deep inside it
I can't see the path or any distance.
Everything is close
and everything closing in on me
has turned to stone.
Since I still don't know enough about pain,
this terrible darkness makes me small.
If it's you, though -
press down hard on me, break in
that I may know the weight of your hand,
and you, the fullness of my cry.