Everyone Is A Hurting Child

Poem By Uriah Hamilton

There are many remarkable women
That the boundary of historical years
Has prevented me from meeting.

I have often been near tears
Reading the fragments of Sappho,
Or merely gazing at a photograph
Of Emily Dickinson.

When I was a young boy,
I remember reading the Bell Jar
And seeing pictures of Sylvia Plath,

I thought she was so beautiful,
Nearly as beautiful as her amazing words
That brought both fear and sorrow
To my tiny beating teenage heart.

She was dead in 1963,
A year before my birth,
I still hoped there was some way
To love and rescue her!

Now, as the years unwind
Through broken relationships and dark nights,
I’ve come to realize, everyone is a hurting child
And that I’ve made more women sad than sweetly smile.

Comments about Everyone Is A Hurting Child

Idealism rocks! -and as to the last line... well solace perhaps that you may have made a few happy (and certainly reflective) here? ! A grand piece in my opinion.
being idealistic is saddening to others, or at least annoying... but it can't be helped.
Thats beautiful. -Rachel
i never was that big of an of Dickinson...Plath however, is a favorite..though I tend to relate more to Sexton...this is a compassionate write..I'm glad you said it, now all I have to do is agree with it... :)
You had the sensitive soul of a poet, even as a child. I hope your idealism doesn't prevent you from meeting the right person. This is a tender, lovely poem. Thanks for sharing. Raynette

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