This is a poem about the human condition. It channels the ghost of Emily Dickinson. Unfortunately, this may well be my greatest poem, the one that lives on after I have passed.
*
Woeful be the misbegotten who have loved us in vain.
Wherever can they go?
There is no time to ever think of those we never loved.
Yet, there they are, still caught in thought,
Still locked in our forgot.
*
Lord have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
Lord have mercy.
*
*
Steven Golden
2018
stevengoldenpoetry 