I hugged my husband as he left for work.
The recent surgery still had me frail.
I lay back down and hoped to sleep once more.
I could not rest; I tried to no avail.

I wished my friends would come to comfort me,
Or call me on the phone to talk awhile.
So slowly time crept by, and, still alone,
I found no present cheer to bring a smile.

I thought of all my dreams still unfulfilled,
Of all the losses suffered through the years.
The silence of the walls grew louder still;
Then I indulged myself in bitter tears.

I heard a voice say, "Oh, you poor, poor thing!"
Surprised, I saw a guest now sat nearby.
"No one has suffered quite like you," she said,
"Or hurt so much. Just go ahead and cry!"

At first, I welcomed sympathy from her;
In fact, I wallowed in Self-Pity's lies,
Until my soul recalled a wooden Cross
And heard the sinless One's forgiving cries.

Ashamed, I told my guest that she must go;
She could not help me on the path I trod.
She vanished, and I reached for my true Friend,
The precious Living Truth, the Word of God.