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Poem

The world's greatest tragedy?

Maybe it's when someone you used to talk to,
for hours on end,
someone you used to be so close to,
someone you used to love;
disappears.

Possibly it's when you give up on yourself,
when you laze about,
resigned to a miserable fate,
resigned to little but sighing and crying;
surrender.

It could be when a child cries,
for a lost mother,
for father, brother, sister, anything,
for innocence fading and reality suffocating;
discovery of sin.

Whatever the case, whatever one thinks
is truly the most sorrowful event to take place,
I know which one is mine.

Not to lose a love,
not to acquiesce to fate,
not a child learning of the wicked;
though indeed they nearly head the list.

No, for me, for anyone, the worst:
to lose who you are.
Not just surrendering it, or death,
nothing so dramatic or even close to sudden.

I speak of a gradual shift, and not growth,
for that is a happy occurrence.
No, letting your identity slip, slowly, over time -
allowing events in your life, or the forces of eternity,
or, most insidiously, other people, to shape
how you react, think, and speak;
such is tantamount to spiritual suicide.

I wouldn't wish it upon the worst scum of the earth,
for the simple thought of it hangs heavy on my heart.

So stand fast, friends,
for you alone dictate your core;
you alone can choose to die
either a pawn of the pressures that surround you,
or actually yourself, in the flesh
and soul.

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