Sad

A Poem By Heather Jones // 11/21/2019

Have I spent my days abroad,
Suffering for the word of God?
Have I been beat, with whip or rod?
No. I’m just kind of sad.

Have I been scorned, or hated? Mocked?
Have I from society been blocked?
By cruel hands have I been knocked?
No. I’m just kind of sad.

Have I any right to complain?
When others are standing out in the rain,
With a chemical imbalance in their brain?
No. I’m just kind of sad.

Do I think that I’m depressed? No.
Do I think that I’m obsessed? Perhaps.
But I don’t think I’m about to collapse.
I’m really just a teeny tad sad.

I’m fine, honestly. I’m happy, even!
I’m excited for life. I’ve things to believe in.
Every day I find joy, love, and hope to breathe in.
So how am I still kind of sad?

And I am not lying. I really am happy.
And I don’t really want this to get kind of sappy;
I want it to have a quick end. Make it snappy.
I’m not gonna stay kind of sad.

But while it is here, is it really okay?
Is it okay for me to stay a little this way?
I’ve not suffered much, but be that as it may,
Can I still maybe feel kind of sad?

Do I have permission, from you who are hurting?
Do I need permission? My eyes are averting.
I beg you excuse all this nonsense I’m blurting.
Honestly, I’m just kind of sad.

What do I do? Should I hate myself now?
I can fix what is broken. I can find how.
Shut down. Get to work, by the sweat of my brow.
I’ll ignore that I’m just a tad sad.

But that seems so wrong. I just want to cry.
I don’t have a question. I don’t care to know why.
I just want to turn gray, like a thunderstorm sky,
And accept for a while that I’m sad.

But isn’t that selfish? Is it, or not?
Some people say yes, some people say naught.
I can’t take the confusion that this thing has wrought.
Am I really even that sad?

Am I a disappointment? I don’t want to be.
I can see the gifts that have been given to me.
I’m try to be grateful for the moments I see.
Am I failure because I am sad?

I walk down the street. The leaves are all red.
I’m running my errands, but I want to be in bed.
A passerby greets me as he walks where I tread.
He cannot tell that I’m sad.

Neither can I.

Comments

Hey Heather! Not sure if I

Hey Heather!
Not sure if I completely understand the ending, but I thought the poem was pretty good. Very relatable. Nice job! : D

Allyson D. | Sat, 11/23/2019

Jill L. Boone

Trust in the Lord with all your heart

Heather, First, I don't know

Heather,
First, I don't know how I didn't see this when it was first posted, but I just now read it for the first time and it's so relatable. I love how you took such a personal thought process and made it poetic. How did I like the ending? I think it fit. It's like a revelation at the end of a long muse, and it's suddenness and the fact that you don't really explain it in detail, I think, added to the general direction of the poem - at least, in my mind ;) Those are just my thoughts. Someone else may have a different a opinion :)
Second, I've missed seeing you around! I know it's been like half a year since you posted this, but it was so good to read this piece from you <3 Hope you are staying well, Heather! <3 <3

Libby | Sat, 05/09/2020

“The gospel alone is the power of God unto salvation.
Therefore, suffer, yes. Be misunderstood, yes. Be shamed, yes. But do not be ashamed. For the joy set before you, take up your cross, follow Jesus, be shamed and despise the shame!" -- John Piper

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