Charles Gates Jr

Poetry’s Light

It was a strange year for me; the saddest I’ve seen thus far. A darkness overcast my soul like a solar eclipse, yet birthed in me a peculiar drive to never quit; despite how badly I wanted to. The year began with the death of my nephew preceded by the miscarriage of my unborn child in a freak accident, deepening the sadness that threatened to throw my body and soul into a matrix of torture. Hell on earth could only begin to describe my level of torment. “Nobody understands my suffering,” I told myself. “Nobody can understand my pain.”