Living, Poetry

Agony in the Garden of Life

There is beauty in agony.

The angle of the fading sun spotlighting horses on a hill

The absence of pain between excruciating contractions

The way the air is sucked out of the room as the ailing takes her last breath

The chances, possibilities

      that never existed when there was no pain,

      no reason to take risks,

      Only a stasis that lured us into settling.

    There is no proverbial gain without the pain.

    Acute, clarifying, sharp —

      We never want it, but would stay the same without it.