I WILL SIGH FROM THE SAME SORROW TOMORROW

I will sigh from the same sorrow tomorrow.
And who can I blame?
The conductor in my train’s narrow corridor
Who calls my city’s name?

Scenery of swamp and river,
Blur of buildings outside a window,
Static suburban history
Of parking lots and industry
That always looks the same?

Are there passengers I can blame?
Those who sit in their seats half asleep,
Who will never know my name?
Who will push in selfishly for seats tomorrow?

Or should I look elsewhere for my sorrow,
A sorrow that truly makes me sigh?
Perhaps it is the beautiful sky
In various hues. Nature is always true
And Nature always reminds me of you.
Perhaps Nature is to blame. She is always the same.

Love? Which, because of its sorrow, makes me feel love is true,
Is this not happy? I do not have you, and yet to me, our love is true
Because of sorrow yesterday, today and tomorrow,
A sorrow always the same—
Since you don’t hold my hand and lean over to me and whisper my name.

Pitiful joy! Pitiful truth! Pitiful sorrow! Pitiful life! All the same.
The same sorrow sighing tomorrow.
Sorrow of millions.
And who can I blame?

 

 

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4 Comments

  1. June 20, 2015 at 4:59 pm

    True emotion. None is to be blamed rather only to suffer as she remains the same unless and until she leans forward whispering the name!

  2. Andrew said,

    June 21, 2015 at 6:42 pm

    [Who calls your city’s name?]

    By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went.

    By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise:

    For he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God.

    Through faith also Sara herself received strength to conceive seed, and was delivered of a child when she was past age, because she judged him faithful who had promised.

    Therefore sprang there even of one, and him as good as dead, so many as the stars of the sky in multitude, and as the sand which is by the sea shore innumerable.

    These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth.

    For they that say such things declare plainly that they seek a country.

    And truly, if they had been mindful of that country from whence they came out, they might have had opportunity to have returned.

    But now they desire a better country, that is, an heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God: for he hath prepared for them a city.

    (Hebrews 11)

    • thomasbrady said,

      June 21, 2015 at 9:03 pm

      Thank you, Andrew. I am so sorrowful that even though I know it not, I am testifying in my poems in a strange religious manner of which I am barely aware…

      • Andrew said,

        June 22, 2015 at 4:54 pm

        God loves you Tom –
        and God loves Scarriet too !


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