I like sad things.
I like the perspective that they bring to this world
that hurls happy endings
upon men like
volcanic basalt bombs.
I like depressing songs
that make you want to cry
even if you don’t understand
the reason why the artist raised paper to pen
and forced the manufactured ink
to express what he was too unassuming
to confess to one person but shares
with a thousand sighing fans.
I like it when a man cries
because it shows that he is willing to put aside the notion that emotion from the male gender is stupid.
To be sad is human,
and there are those hollow moments in the middle of the dark
when The Truman show is our reality
and this life is a conspiracy against us—the unsuspecting victim
of silent suffering.
Millions of innocent suffer every day,
and a person dies with every word I say—I don’t mean to give away
the ending, but all people have to suffer
the will of Death.
Like Emily Dickinson, we sit next to him
in a carriage and watch our life from marriage to birth
and then our worth will be decided upon
one basis.
Did we learn from the sad things?
Did the sorrow bring us to our knees
in pleading
for a way to stay the hand of corrosion
for just
one
moment?
Did the pain make us stand up
and speak up
for the orphans without a voice?
You see, you and I, we have a choice
every minute of every day
to go along with our merry way of oblivious harmony
and refuse
to see the heartache of the downtrodden.
Like Marie Antoinette
do we let those that starve
have their cake
and tell them to eat it too,
when all they really need is
a new pair of shoes?
Do we let those that starve in their soul
be alone
with nothing to console them
but Death
and his fine ride?
Oh no,
we can not put away the sad things.
Man must sing.
Man must cry.
He must ask God, “why”.
And if exhalation
is the goal he has for his soul,
then the answer to his wrenching cry is to find God
among the sad things of this world.
Don’t hurl false ignorant bliss
that will destroy.
Instead
learn from sadness
to find joy.
~DaLe 02.20.08
