Pain that cannot forget,
Falls drop by drop upon the heart’s fierce heat,
A slow and steady rain of sorrow’s sting,
Each tear a lesson, each wound a silent ring.
In the furnace of despair we stand,
Burned by trials we cannot understand,
Yet in the crucible of darkest night,
A spark of wisdom kindles fragile light.
The awful grace of God descends,
Not in ease, but where the spirit bends,
Through agony’s relentless, aching tide,
Comes strength unseen, a truth to guide.
Each drop of pain, a sculptor’s hand,
Carving wisdom from the shifting sand,
The soul, though battered, learns to see,
The deeper meaning of what must be.
Despair, a teacher harsh and true,
Unveils the path we never knew,
That through the breaking, through the fall,
We find the grace that heals us all.
Not in comfort, but in the strife,
Is written the story of our life,
Where God’s own mercy, fierce and wild,
Transforms the broken, reconciled.
So let the drops fall, one by one,
Until the night yields to the sun,
For in the pain that won’t forget,
Lies wisdom’s gift, and hope’s duet And soon all will be undone.