Harsh Belief

Winter’s grey chill existing

Deeply ingrained in my soul.

Springtime’s ever renewal

Only strengthens the sense of sin.

Unwholesome mirror view of me;

Brought to maturation too soon.

This twisted sense of responsibility

Defeats my life as Hope ebbs and swells.

Growth was long-stunted.

Understanding still expanding.

Frustration and Failure flourish.

What did I become?

The schism that exists;

Well-hidden behind words.

A polished façade to be pierced;

Kept in place by fear and pain.

My black and white attempting to blend;

To mix with the grey that denial breeds.

Society enthralled by complexity.

I cannot be what they want me to be.

Wholesome to the point of incompetence,

Raising a child to be conscientious.

Striving always for the "Golden Rule".

To hurt and give pain is never "right".

I am rewarded with ridicule and scorn.

They murder my love with fear and resentment.

I become the grey, shapeless rags huddled

Through Winter’s chill in the doorway of Life.

---Heather L. Martin---

11 December 2000