opening the box

and sometimes the pain rises
and the future seems bleak
and the way seems too narrow
and the lid of the box
flips open with fierce glee
and laughs mockingly
at my discomfort
and I long to gather the pain
so carelessly released
and stuff it back down
into the well remembered
darkness of the past

and yet released
it meets the light
and released it meets
the truth
and taking hold of the box lid
I throw it back
with renewed strength and vigour
and let the healing power
of my tears
flood into the cavernous depths
and wash them clean of past pain
and fill them with the refreshing springs
of truth and freedom
and the hope of a more gracious tomorrow
when my heart is scoured and clean
and the box is emptied
of the pain of the past