I really wanted to write a light-hearted poem today. The best I could do is write a poem about the struggle to do so. Maybe tomorrow. :)


Hand in Hand

Where have my happy words gone?

I struggle to grab a single one
to form a line of verse,
a pleasant word, a silly thought,
words dancing across the page
in a can-can line of exuberant joy.

Seems like love would inspire,
at minimum, a haiku,
seventeen syllables describing the joy
of being understood,
of safe connection.
But no.
Those are trapped behind grief,
the fragility of life and loss
preventing their escape.

The music plays.
I still hear it.

Love is a waltz,
moments with family and friends
a square dance
of patterned steps and fancy twirls,
life is a conga line with me in the lead.

Perhaps I need to change the rhythm,
move from a folk ballad to a rock anthem,
shake off this veil of lingering darkness
and dance until the lights come up.

Come, happy words,
not to erase my grief
but to dance beside it,
hand in hand,
teaching sorrow
a few new steps.



Poetry by Melinda K Zarate The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 22 times
Written on 2026-07-09 at 03:33

Tags Joy  Poetry  Writing 

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
I said somewhere else today that I have a habit of assuming a poem describes something that the author is experiencing, or has experienced, when I in fact do not always do that myself. So, if this reflects your own thoughts and feelings at the moment, dear Melinda, I have empathy for you, plus it is a very brave write, and if it is about an unknown protagonist it is a clever write. Whichever, I found it sad, but understandable. I think as poets we do need to take our foot off the writing gas peddle once in a while to allow ourselves the opportunity of simply being. You know: hearing the birds and smelling the flowers sort of thing. The world on our shoulders is a very heavy load. Blessings, Allen
2026-07-09