When pain makes you the guilty
|They are the trigger, I am the barrel;|
When they act as goats and make me quarrel,
I’m called the problem – the troublemaker,
Even when I’m just a grieved protester.
I’ll block the hammer; I’ll bar this dark door;
As one girded to stand long in a war,
My heart shall prepare to take blows and blows,
But not to protest when my sure pain grows.