Poem: Beauty
The evening’s temperature is nearly perfect.
Gray clouds cloak the sky, but it is not dreary.
A cool wind runs its fingers through the leaves.
The breeze carries a softness as its tendrils
brush across the skin. Sunlight pierces the clouds
and dances in a cherry tree.
Beams of light so bright you couldn’t help
but feel like God put on a show just for you.
But my heart lumbers through a sadness
that doesn’t feel like it belongs. It persists
in its great murkiness, slinking in my stomach
and rolling around.
It’s a sadness that doesn’t bear one name,
but a heaviness that’s a mixture of perfectly
timed wrongness.
Sometimes, it’s hard to look at the world
and know what you see is beautiful,
but not feel it.
I really like this whole part:”It’s a sadness that doesn’t bear one name,
but a heaviness that’s a mixture of perfectly
timed wrongness.”
I like that it isn’t something as “simple” as depression. It’s a whole mess of sadness and heaviness that can’t be narrowed down to one easy diagnosis.
I really like that part too. I think sometimes when writing poetry, you hit a point and you realize this process was all leading to this line, or this point, or this ending, or this emotion. I kind of have that feeling about that part of this poem. I kind of have that feeling about the last stanza too, as in that was where it was always leading, but this part embodies the feeling that leads to the last stanza.
That last stanza hit hard!
💕