A Poor, Wayfaring Man of Grief
"The evidence of yesterday,
Is what we disallow,
The future is a better way,
To live our lives right now."
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A poor, wayfaring man of grief,
Hath passed me on my way,
And though I stood in disbelief,
He stood in disarray.
I felt some need to comfort him,
To share his heavy load,
And yet, my fate was also grim,
And mutual, our road.
I thought about a future day,
When all the world is fair,
And love is not a word to say,
But more, a hug to share.
I followed him, to find my place,
Beneath a Poplar tree,
But when I gazed upon his face,
I saw the man was me.
I did not speak a kindly word,
Or treat him very nice,
Because my shame was still preferred,
To giving him advice.
I thought about a quick retreat,
To expedite my way,
I would not hear of his defeat,
In words, I could not say.
But when he turned to look at me,
I knew that it was so,
The young man that I used to be,
Was someone I should know.
I knew that he was all alone,
A victim of my past,
But when he found my comfort zone,
We stood and cried at last.
I knew that he was sad and low,
A desperate place to be,
And yet, he had the strength to show,
How much he cared for me.
Because he fought for my relief,
He set my spirit free,
A poor, wayfaring man of grief,
Is not our destiny.
Copyright ©
Bryan Norton
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