Bandaged up, he stumbled on.
His rocky, rutted road.
Potholes gouged by early storms
And inner torrents
Tripping him, swallowing him;
Growing with every new downpour.
His energy draining
Every time he clawed himself back out.
Dust sticking, dimming his light;
The light others saw easier than he.
A light of charm
And warmth and wit.
A glow that brought him many friends.
A glow that shone for others
But could not light his way
Around his gaping gloom.
Tired and drained,
He tried to celebrate to new beginnings.
His smile belied his tired heart,
His eyes that saw his path ahead:
Dust, rocks, gaping holes
Beckoning, sneering at his efforts.
He drew deep,
He thanked his friends
For not seeing the journey through.
Then jumped to the beckoning abyss.
Now he sleeps.
I hope at peace.
May the inner light of his soul
Find a smoother, happier path.
By: SHARON HEANEY STANSFIELD