All The Lonely People: Poems From Around The World Featuring Aaron Cornett.

This week, I am featuring Aaron Cornett’s lovely poem from the All The Lonely People anthology. I found this so touching. And I love Polly Wood’s beautiful art-work. Many thanks Aaron for your wonderful submission.

 Sorrrow’s calling  By Aaron Cornett

Sasha by Polly Wood

She knew the light.
Her steps knew conviction.
She bore the strange gift
Of solitude, as if knowing
That she was not meant
To last.

I knew her once,
I knew everything about her.
Her vibrant youth and
Her innocent charm,
But not
Her sickness and frailty.

There at the bus stop,
Surrounding by the chilling rain,
I met her gaze as we shared
A painted sidewalk.
Her eyes are deep and
Never ending, her smile
Hidden
As shadows crept across
Our gentle surroundings.
We shared the conversation
Of strangers and a friendship
Was born.

We enjoyed the times and
Moment life gave us, dancing
Among the poetic ashes
Of creativity and youth.
Yet never once did she drop
The mask that hid the
Pain and suffering of
A struggling heart.

I never knew
Until the sad face of many
Came to visit, and I fell
Inward,
Into the void,
Into the cold gift she left me.

She left the way
All good things of this world
Must leave, passing the
Gift of solitude to another
Who ponders the path of his feet
And the value of his heart.©

 

https://www.facebook.com/aaron.cornett

About Dr Niamh

When I was a little girl (a very, very long time ago), I used to love learning new, really big words like ‘discombobulate’. As I grew, my love of words grew too, until I loved them so much, I could not stop writing them down. One day, as I was scribbling a particular word, a very peculiar thing happened. The word shouted at me, “Stop! Don’t put me there!” As you can imagine, I was shocked and nearly fell off my chair. When I recovered somewhat, I said to the word, “Could you stop shouting, please? I am not used to it.” Can you guess what happened next? No! I thought not. The word said, “I might be small, but I will misbehave if you do not use me properly. I will not tell the story you would like me to tell. I will say something entirely different!” I dropped my pen. I hoped that by dropping my pen, the word would stop talking. Alas! It did not. It carried on chitterchobbling, even after the ink had dried. I was in a pickle. I could not allow my words to run away with my story, now could I? I don’t know about you, but when this sort of thing happens, there is only one thing left to do if you prefer not to spend your time arguing. “Very well,” said I. “I will do as you ask if you will just be quiet and allow me to concentrate.” Since that day, I have been paying special attention to every word I invite into my stories. After all, a story should say exactly what it means to say and not be led astray. With love from Dr. Niamh, Ph.D in Learning Through The Imagination and Founder of Dr Niamh Children's Books. www.drniamhchildrensbooks.com

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