HE ONLY CRIED FOR OTHERS

He only cried for others,

He never cried for himself.

The emotions welled within him,

They overtook him by stealth.

He wished to pick up their spirits,

Whisper tidings for good health.

He couldn’t abide a sorrowful visage,

His sympathy was part of his wealth.

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When children cried, he felt bereft.

The sounds of their sorrow rang in his ears.

Their happiness gone as if by theft,

Their watery eyes freely splashed tears.

Childhood sorrow has considerable heft,

How he wished he could lessen their fears.

When a child is sad, the whole world knows;

He whispered in their ears to forget their sorrows.

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He had a passion for reading novels.

Since childhood, a lifetime habit over the years.

The death scenes described in Dickens novels

Induced in him a flood of tears.

Nothing could stop the overflow of emotion,

Universal suffering the writer has made real.

He read the story with intense devotion,

What lay on the page he could deeply feel.

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He only cried for others,

He never cried for himself.

The emotions veiled in him as wealth,

Unreachable except through stealth.

Who can say how this door was locked;

But locked it was, never to open.

A door upon which he never knocked,

Forever closed, his heart was never broken.

(c) John Herlihy November 2018