Darkness falls
The night so solitaire yet kindly brings,
Comforting rest to a body so tired.
But holding within it is a heart that sings
A sad song of pain by loss inspired.
The beauty of spring is at the door
Renewed life to the world it will bring
But for he who no longer of anything is sure
Is now deaf to the music the birds sing.
Many seasons have passed him by.
Some joyfully warm others cold and hurtful.
He recalls the warmth and stay there does try,
But the memories lead to another time so painful.
He lays his weary head down and cries,
For this he has done a million times before
And with the warmth of his breath, the pillow dries,
Thus his misery is to everyone else is no more.
The night is dark and so is his plight.
Both sharing in a common trait.
A painful darkness, no end in sight,
If the light arrives will it be too late?
What dreams this man who sees no spring?
What nightmares awake his restless slumber?
For as his dreams comfort would bring,
The nightmares, cruel, too many in number
Arise he will if fate allows another day
To play the game, the stakes are high.
But whatever cards of life he holds to play,
The dealer be damned, defeat he will deny.
Victor 2006/2/6 (all rights reserved)
Child a gift
There are things we can not escape
There are wonders in size and shape
There are ways we all seek and endeavor
To make the inevitable be a never
We are given gifts we seldom appreciate
Unwillingly at times we turn love to hate
And sad it is to see a tear that will not dry
Hurts even more to hear a sweet child cry
Why do some not see the pain
They cause to a child, are they vain?
Is it hard to see they do not know
The reason may be, it does not show
All a child sees is pain and discontent
And quietly wishes we would relent
A child may not voice what they feel
But nightmares their tender soul will kill
Do we forget that we once where they
Put end to misery for this we all pray
What once was love there is no more
We bicker for nothing worth the score
It is easy to bring a life into being
How easy it is to forget the feeling
They do not wish or ask for much
All they ask is our loving touch
I was given gifts that I thought we mine
But now what I see it is not all benign
They rip from me my reason for living
And wonder how long I can go on giving
We are all born and all must die
Freely we are given the gift of high
But when the joy is brutally taken away
What is left is little more than total disarray
Vic © 1992