Bitterness
T
HE heart knoweth its own bitterness.”
The ancient cry comes sounding down the
years.
A king had found it so, his own distress
Too great for utterance, too deep for tears.
Yet clothed with gold, and crowned with gems, he walked
Along the way that you and I must go:
Dissembling well, he smiled, he laughed, he talked,
The old hurt in his heart, and none could know.
“The heart knoweth its own bitterness”:
The hidden grief that closed lips never tell,
Each bearing his own burden, his distress,
We meet, we greet, we say that all is well.
God grant in some far land, unloosed and free,
All shall be well some day with you and me.
˙43˙