found another sorrow poem…in second collection…written in 1994. suspect might be a rehashed poem (edited…)  that’s interesting…so my younger ‘self’ edited poems…but didn’t do ‘titles’ often…hmm

 

Sorrow hears no voices

Neither can she see

Blindly she commences

Upon her stumbling feet

Bumping into persons

Of very high renown

Falling amongst peasants

In their sparsely furnished homes

Sorrow bears no malice

Neither is she fed

By tears or piteous wailing

Or the bodies of the dead

Sorrow knows no future

A whisper in the wind

Blown through cities, towns, people

Outward to the sea

Sorrow has no feeling

Of anguish caused and felt

As day seeps into dark night

And shadows take to flight

© 1994

 

Okay…I checked ‘my younger self’ changed last two lines…why?…(know idea whatsoever…but I am going to title any untitled poems I come across…will use first line of poem…at least that will still be ‘warts and all’)

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