Sad Little Cloud (a poem)

In perfect honesty there have been times
When I wanted to say, “That’s it! I’m done.”
Too tired, too exhausted by your grief,
And suffering in the shadow of your pain.
You’ve hurt, and yes I know that hurt was real
(And no, my happy life cannot compare)
But all your misery is wasted time —
A gift to grief, withheld from those you love.
You’re so much more than tragedy.

You’ve never known a perfect life at home —
No gentle father-man to wrap you up,
No shining beacon Mom, so pure and true,
No happy Christmas photo family.
And then, your spirit’s been betrayed by flesh —
When your own mind became the enemy,
When reason could not conquer cruel thoughts,
When friends and lovers could not understand.
You’re so much more than tragedy.

I’ve seen you try and try to prove that true —
To live a normal life, to make it work
When whispered voices swear it’s wasted time.
“You’ll never live the picture postcard life.”
They’re right. But don’t believe the worst of it.
You’re destined to far more than normal gives.
I’ve seen you shine, seen miracles firsthand
But you lament the things you cannot do.
You’re so much more than tragedy.

I know you want perfection and no less.
I know you’ve tasted bitter, cruel fate.
I know you’ve lost more dearly than you’ve made.
I know how hard you work so you won’t cry.
But people fall in love with this sad cloud.
They gather to your dark like moths to flame.
Not for the shade, but for the light you hide —
Deprive to those who’d give their lives to you.
You’re so much more than tragedy.

Be more. Be more. And every day be more.
Find paths that bring you out into the light,
Find dreams that make you smile, that make you hope,
Find friends who cheer, and tales that tell you truth.
And look for truth — for happy truth no less.
Look for the shinning light that draws them in,
Look for the you that made me write this verse,
And get to know that person like I do.
You’re so much more than tragedy.