By Guillit A.
Why do I feel so terribly lonely?
How gladly I would run away from this aching void,
this painful longing to reach out and touch someone—
and be touched.
I know I must face these moments,
that others cannot fill my cup to the brim.
But oh, it is painful—at times, truly frightening.
There are days when I feel utterly alone,
and nights I dread like open jaws.
I distract myself with work,
I seek contact,
I try for attention.
I force a brave smile,
but the pain remains—
a shadow that does not leave.
The empty hours draw on me,
followed by more silent hours.
My heart is thirsty.
I feel like a barren wasteland,
giving nothing, getting nothing,
meaning nothing to anyone.
Help me through this desert,
for I do not see the way.
I have dragged myself to mirage after mirage
and felt cheated each time.
And yet—I rush again
to the next false oasis.
Show me how to look into myself.
Show me what I need
and how to find it.
Show me where You are hiding—
and wait for me,
and that will be enough.
I will not wander far,
hungry and thirsty,
while You offer good food and drink in plenty.
You have made me too great for this world,
too deep to be filled by trifles.
Fill my lonely heart—
for You alone can speak to my heart
in words only You can utter.
Here is my little bowl, battered and empty:
fill it to the brim,
overflow it.
If this pain,
this emptiness,
has shown me the way to You,
then let it stay.
---
We did not weep for the thing
that was once a child.
We did not weep for what had been a child.
We did not weep for the thing that had been—
nor for the deep dark silences
that ate of the so-young flesh.
But we wept
at the sight of two men standing alone,
flat against the sky—
alone,
shoveling earth as a blanket
to keep the young blood down.
For we saw ourselves
in the dark warm mother-blanket.
Saw ourselves, for the first time,
dead and alone.
We did not weep for the thing—
weep for the thing.
We did not weep for the thing
that was once a child.
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