There is pain, and then there is pain, and not one of us can define pain for another. A life of physical pain for some can be unlivable, while others might find spiritual pain to be unbearable. There are others who cannot bear the pain of socio-cultural alienation, the horror of such ills as apartheid. Some sensitive souls find that existing within a city that cares not for poetry or other fine arts can be painful. Many are the reasons for anguish in our pain ladened society.
Poetry can be a means to search for truth, for the truth that can be embodied by our actions.
It has been a week of thinking about the human condition for me, about making sense of a poet's life, not just David's but also my own. That same trap has ensnared many a poet and visionary. Other publishing ventures have failed, bookstores have closed and cultural programs have died. All those were attempts to share the power and vision of the arts in a way that was not commercialized. It will be on Walt Whitman's birthdate.