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







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