'the Misery of the Meek'
She held onto despair as if it were air.
No one to care for her like he did before.
It’s not fair when death knocks on your door,
now all she does is sit at the sill and stare,
with sorrow lingering down her long ebon hair.
Misery to the worst degree is her life these days.
She awaits a moment vivacity does arrive.
It takes everything in her just to survive
when she’s been shattered in so many ways.
She weeps when their wedding song plays.
Depression and digression without reprieve.
Her inspiration and motivation have died too.
It’s just an anguished life she’s been born into,
everyone looks at her eyes and can’t believe
how she wears a smile so well on her torn sleeve.
See, I’ve too been where she is before in my life.
Losing your beloved to a disease of the mind.
When suicide calls there are no answers to find,
as that person has been drowning in strife.
Which pain is worse…the deceased or me, the wife?
When the mania settled and sadness overwhelms
is when I knew he’d say farewell far too young.
He left because to addiction he so easily clung,
now I lay around in a daze in different realms
in our garden in the yard underneath his elms.
So to all of you who think suicide is for the weak,
may you try to be compassionate for their misery.
To you, the longing for happiness may be a mystery,
but to others it is the only language they speak.
Let us all be aware of the pain of the meek.
December 30, 2018
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Copyright © Lu Loo | Year Posted 2018
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