Villanelle: Mulch

Mulch

Mulch would hide the light and smother weeds
Whose stemmed assault would quickly strangle flowers.
Green on green, sap for sap life feeds.

Man is a stranger animal. His deeds
Can light the living through their darkest hours.
Still mulch would hide the light and smother weeds.

Weeds can be prolific with their seeds.
They pack the earth with chances for their towers.
Green on green, sap for sap life feeds.

Who stamps on hope? Who buries all the needs
Of the downtrodden by monetary powers?
Their mulch would hide the light and smother weeds.

A weed is just a plant that can succeed
Where it should not, good only for the mowers.
Green on green, sap for sap life feeds.

How many, covered in darkness, how many plead
For just a pin of light before roots sour?
The mulch would hide the light and smother weeds.
Green on green, sap for sap life feeds.



A poem for the little guy.

Weltschmerz is self-indulgent, I think; it has a Romantic sweetness to it. Depression is merely an abyss.

I am greatly troubled today to see Kathleen depressed since yesterday, or "merely melancholy" as she puts it. Of course I blame myself. She was not depressed in NY. Coming home to me, she tanked. Depression can be contagious if one is prone to it. I'm trying to act more upbeat as a compensation. I think it was my relapse that troubled her most. She left me in a recovery mode and I blew it. Of all the people in the world, I least want to hurt Kathleen. Loving and being loved by her is the one great achievement of my life, even if it was a gift. I can always say, "I got the thing in life I most wanted--Kathleen." That is my ultimate fallback point when the hounds of perpetual failure savage my mind.

-4,

CE