Poems for Free

Maybe Underneath the Bed Is Sadness

Maybe underneath the bed is sadness, Even in the ecstasy of life, Rejoicing in the gift of man and wife, Reveling in existential gladness. Yes, maybe at the heart of things a madness Cuts through the flesh of pleasure like a knife, Harrowing the soul with inner strife, Replacing good with unrepentant badness. If so, reason not with your despair; So deep a wound requires deeper healing, Too deep for any deft divining rod. More than meaning, you are simply there, A wonder steeped in incandescent feeling, Still wrapped in swaddling clothes, the child of God. Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.