Reaching out I grasp... nothing.
I sense nothing, I hear nothing.
I feel nothingness around me.

Open doors I have aplenty,
Weaknesses I also bear,
faults for which I pay most dearly,
Sorrows which I count most dear.

Most are known by their skills and purpose.
Some are seen by their shape or form.
Happiness is swiftly fleeting,
ephemeral, easily contrived.

Sorrow though, and suffering, are pure and clear to see,
most do not imitate sadness which they do not have.
They attempt, instead, to appear whole and complete.
Happy, at least to others.
Heaven forbid someone see them sad.

I say people are the most true to themselves when unhappy,
Closest to their essential being in their hurt and fear.
Their strength is shown, their spine, their core.
Why read them when they hide themselves?
No, find them at their worst instead,
and know it is their best.

11/30/1999

Posted on 09/25/2001
Copyright © 2025 Leandra K Brossard