The pounding frontal lobes and nausea,
Waking me, many mornings of the month.
Cursing would be wasted and ignoble
Joining them to the Lord's, the more noble.
Aches, pains, and weaknesses – don't they get it?
Not because of one's sins but for one's sins
And for those sins of the world's entire.
Wearing the crown of a co-redeemer.
Hurts, beatings, and gaffes, may the Kingdom come.
Coronation: the scepter they will shun.
Victim soul? Saint John Paul II leans, staff supporting!
Fully adorned among the world's hurting.
Pain, poverty - transformed; eternal comforting:
Royal robe, a fatted calf, the suffer ring.
Waking me, many mornings of the month.
Cursing would be wasted and ignoble
Joining them to the Lord's, the more noble.
Aches, pains, and weaknesses – don't they get it?
Not because of one's sins but for one's sins
And for those sins of the world's entire.
Wearing the crown of a co-redeemer.
Hurts, beatings, and gaffes, may the Kingdom come.
Coronation: the scepter they will shun.
Victim soul? Saint John Paul II leans, staff supporting!
Fully adorned among the world's hurting.
Pain, poverty - transformed; eternal comforting:
Royal robe, a fatted calf, the suffer ring.
- Gary Edward Geraci
To my fellow migraineurs, to those who suffer quietly and to those of you whom express, and I hope alleviate, if not just a bit, your suffering through your writing. And to the greatest work ever written on suffering: "Salvifici Dolores" and its author, the late, great, Pope Saint John Paul II, I dedicate this poem.
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