A Sonnet By An ''Other''
Like Frankenstein, I, too, am loathed to death;
I walk this earth devoid of friend and hearth,
devoid of joy from the time of my birth
and from the first draw of my infant's breath.
An outcast and a pariah among
the friended, I exist without the mirth
and bliss of those born of more ample worth,
esteem, and prize,—O would that I belong!
Still, I am loved of my dear family
and most scarce friends, my books, and by my God,
and my most oft-read, soothing Poetry.
These things I treasure, honor, and so laud
with gratitude and thanks abundantly,
and so am glad like worms in blesséd sod.
**Nota Bene! Revised version immediately below of above sonnet:
Like an outcast despised, I flee the heath;
devoid of friend and mirth, I trek this earth
and dwell alone from the time of my birth
almost from my first draw of infant's breath.
Unloved, without the world's shared shibboleth,
I am the face of tragedy, when hearth
and friendship's company withhold their worth,
closeness, esteem, and trust until my death.
But I still am loved by dear family,
and by my Rose, a blesséd gift from God;
whom, along with my oft-read poetry,
I treasure, honor, and so highly laud.
Though forever estranged in this country,
I still thus am glad like a frail seed in sod.
© Ngoc M. Nguyen. All rights reserved. Updated 23 April 2023
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