My girl suffers, and goes far away where I can't see her pain. I only see the sign of her pain, and the sign is hard to read, for it’s in a language I don’t understand. Woman Views the Sea She is my girl. I would do anything to help her, but I can’t do enough. It’s my best, the best I have. She gives her best for me and I never know when I might wear a sign in a language no one understands. That's what we do for each other, because we love each other, even when the love hurts, because the loved one hurts. My girl suffers but she is strong; she holds it with dignity and sorrow. The world suffers, and the world's suffering is more pain for my girl to hold, because that's who she is:every animal, every tiny thing, all the life that comes and goes, my girl knows, feels, it is all real. The world's suffering folds into her suffering, the same, yet different, pain. Some people are more expert at pain than others. My girl is an expert. She is much stronger than I am. I learned to duck when I was young learned to watch out. My girl thinks she does not trust. But she trusts, too much, and she doesn't duck. My girl suffers, and goes far away, because she must. I leave the gates, the doors, the bridges open, so she can find her way back. I keep the lights on. I am not strong enough to go where she goes, but I keep the lights on and the fire burning: she always finds her way back, smiling, playful, childlike, once again. Contemplation Trance