Pitiful

Days fly by, faster than we can fathom.

Seems as though, we never catch up,

What seems important one day,

Is quickly forgotten the next.
Is there peace and rest for the weary?

Is there compassion for those in pain?

Is there healing for wounded souls,

Broken bodies, aching hearts?
Seems the world doesn’t stop to wait

For those who straggle behind,

Hanging on a whisper of hope,

Clinging to a hint of mercy.
Is there a chance for all of us?

Can we all rise to our potential?

Or are we lost in the details,

The number crunching, the cut backs?
Maybe our hopes must be exchanged

For less shiny, impressive outcomes.

Maybe, when it comes to the end,

We are not even remembered.
“Who are you, again?” they ask.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Oh, you really worked for me,

For thirty years, you say?”
“Wow, that’s a long time!

Funny, I don’t remember you.”

Yes, funny, not ha, ha.

Not silly, not kidding, not joking.
Dead serious.

What do we really hope for?

What is our goal?

If it’s happiness, we can forget it.

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Author: Gordon S. Bowman III

Writer, Visual Artist, Blogger, Advocate

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