In dark dungeons of dejection
Where despondent thoughts dwell;
There’s no satisfaction of perfection
In that subterranean Hell.
Where is the salve that can appease
This hole of black despair?
Is there a word or thought to ease
A door for those trapped there?
Smug are they who’ve never worn
The cloak of dread and fear;
Or suffered all alone forlorn
Amid sorrow and the tear.
For the one who rides the crest
Of billow and the wave;
A dipping trough awaits to test
The stalwart and the brave.
Or the coward his cover blown;
He lurks in every soul;
Like Peter had to Christ disown;
Everyone can play that role.
Monty Alexander 20.6.06