Soul Caner Poem by ary bolanos

We all have a cancer in our soul.
It's some malady of calamity that has some mystery of beginning, and no apparent end.
There is a sickness that doctors can't seem to see, my friend.
The symptoms come forth quickly, sometimes slowly, and they're too much for me.
Splinters, of all sorts, can be removed like some branch sawed off a tree.
There is a deep hurt to which I cannot point my finger.
Its toll takes its time coming too quickly to linger.
Is it Adam's great sin in not resisting his Eve?
Or, is it bruises and scars easily covered with sleeves?
The scars of the past, and the path to the future, are all jumbled in some mess.
Clumsy and lost, we stumble to our best.
You do what you can to open the blind to let the light come in.
To expose what you kept in the shadow of the corner you were convinced was your sin.
You know what to do with it now, and it's less and less a mystery.
It is time to get to work, and dig in, and take care of that Soul Surgery.
We all have a cancer in our soul.