A child with a gloomy disposition
Said to me with some contrition,
“I find the sunlight much too bright,
It tells me problems can be simply set right.
Though I’ve prayed for a many a day,
Not one deity, have I swayed.”
When company came, she hid in dark places
As if time could pass faster in stasis
And hurts would merely fester instead of ache
Thirst seem manageable though never slaked.
She said to me when I cooed,
“Do not think me for a fool
Or you some handyman to mend a tool.
I’ve got such horrid wounds to show
And I’d rather not let you in the know.
Lest you tell me they were my fault
And all my words be for naught.”
So I sat with her in that black-filled room
Let her feel my wrists in high noon
Let her trace where my scars also ran
And then she cried and with a stand
Bolted as if she could not understand.
“How can you smile knowing the world so bleak?
And still falsely grin when you seek
Me, to me, you would lie about happiness
And follow me at your own behest?”
“Child, my child,” I stroked her hair.
“Do not let burdens rob you of care.
Live a little braver, if you dare
And you’ll find survivors everywhere.”
My child with that gloomy disposition
Did not much change her stubborn position.
But she began to linger for moments at a window or two
And stare with longing at the sky, yes, so blue.