A Creator's Heart Break

I would like to add a disclaimer to this poem.  This poem doesn't represent anyone's story.   It is, considering my observations, my attempt to empathize with this point of view.  I hope I got it right.


Looking down in her hand...

seeing a judgement rendered by a line...

tears beckoning as she seeks a reason why...

why could she be one who gives...

life and light in her mind...

yet be betrayed by such lines as her hand now holds...

to be found to be a lesser kind...

her mind accepts this isn't quite so...

yet internal workings won't stay silent...

wondering if it will ever be for her...

as others who seem to not have qualm...

who burst with happiness unrestrained...

unheedful, unknowing her broken heart...

that which makes them joyful in her despite...

in truth it isn't fair to squelch their joy...

its not their fault that she is without...

yet these things could be forgotten...

if they would be grateful for what they have...

understanding it to be a gift...

treating their creation like a masterpiece...

uncomplaining of their grace...

she would do much and more...

she would trade places in a second...

honor that which she had made...

do for a creation what few could imagine...

how unfair it seems though...

to be left with hands empty of grace...

to only have this mockery in her hand...

truly only one line to fit all her pain into...

marking it reverently on her chart...

tears streaking down the page...

Yet another month brings some hope...

she must hold on for sanity sake...

On she trudges then...

hoping.

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