By terry
Date: 14 September 2000
Weed Among the Flowers
He tried
God knows he had given over his life to the effort
As a little boy
He had looked for beauty in nature
And goodness in people
And in both he had succeeded magnificently
And failed miserably
And so he grew
Long and tall and straight
But different
Where other men had steel at their core
He had only layers of softness
And where other men were afraid of their feelings
He embraced the self awareness of his thorns
But like others things different of this world
He was ridiculed
As a weed among the flowers
Whose very life stole precious water from the pretty ones.
And whose being was a matter of laughter
Ridicule and derision
But sometimes when he heard the bright sound
He would close his eyes
And imagine
That the laughter was his own
And he could hear his own baritone
Joining with the chorus of mankind
Bringing a ghost of a smile for a brief respite
From the pain, the loneliness
But he was tired now
Weary of reaching for the sun
For the warmth and the will
And yearned for the day
(Because he knew his place)
He was a weed among the flowers
And he waited
For the day it would all end
When the gardener would end the misery
Of one small rose among the daffodils.
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner