Two Friends In Crisis
There are wounded spirits surrounding me
As I take up my pen.
One in a far off land and one is close at hand
And all I have to offer are words.
These shadows lay within my heart
As the night muffles the glow of my lamp.
I cry for them and try to offer a poem
That might be a balm for their suffering.
Lost souls that glitter despite their pain,
They are my Ophelias this night.
I will not be their Hamlet as we know what that would beget.
I am the fool who speaks the truth and coaxes out a smile.
But these sprites are fragile folk,
And laughing off real afflictions goes only so far.
And my offer of aid is declined as soon as it's made.
So I feel guilty that my biggest worry is for their welfare.