Christopher Reilley Poems

Leonard Cohen, photo by Christopher Lee There’s a lullaby for suffering. Soft, at least at first.  The cadence of heartbeat throbbing in metronomic silence, at the periphery of awareness. Existing in a quantum between moments, becoming present when you become aware of it and not before. Intensity is merely measured. How long you take to drift into endurance depends on the length of life the hurt takes to overcome. We do our best despite the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, and the diamond-hard fastness of our deceptions. We blink, morning is here, the damnable early bird pecking at us, leftovers in the baker's basket, fraying bits of us away. Mistakes cover our lives like clothes litter the floor of a teenager's bedroom, hiding everything under a layer of haphazard. Yet when troubles are piled in a tangled heap, it is far smaller than assumed. And so begins the journey. ---- This bit of prosery prompted by the line " There’s a lullaby for suffering " by the la...