Poems by Pat Fleming

Seven AM and I sat at the light,
Watching the train chugging by.
A day like the rest, on the way to my job,
Just routine with no feeling inside.

The morning was frigid and snowy,
Just thinking how cold he must be.
But there I could see him wrapped up on the stoop,
In that blanket he found on the street.

That cold, concrete stoop, at that old, empty store,
The place that for years he called home.
He sat there each day, never meeting your eyes,
Just contented to be left alone.

The weeds by the tracks were his bathroom,
His food was a bottle of wine.
His clothes were all dirty and tattered.
He was drunk or passed out all the time.

To see him you'd think he was no one.
He was barely a man anymore.
A failure to the ones who once loved him,
And a burden to the rest of the world.

But those who once knew him in the days long gone by
Would tell you how wrong you would be.
For in fact, it's quite true that this lost, broken soul
Was once just like you and like me.

He woke up every morning in a home of his own
That he shared with his son and his wife.
He worked every day as a painter by trade
And thanked God every night for his life.

People who watched him admired his ways.
He was caring and decent and good.
He worked harder than most to provide for his son,
And for neighbors he did what he could.

Life was a struggle, and times could be bad,
But he always found strength to go on.
He wanted the best for the people he loved,
Never dreaming that soon they'd be gone.

It happened in winter on a dark, snowy day,
In a storm that had moved in quite fast
That his wife ventured forth to pick up their son,
And neither survived when they crashed.

From the day they were buried his friends rallied round,
But he was lost despite how much they tried.
And even today when they speak of him still,
They say it's as if they all died.

And when I last sat at that light, by that stoop,
I saw he was no longer there.
The store still sat empty and was now boarded up,
And I wondered if anyone cared.

But later I learned on that stoop where he lived,
That place that he once made his home
He too passed away on one cold winter's day,
Long forgotten and left quite alone.

So should you pass by a lost soul such as this,
Be careful how harshly you judge him.
For you can't ever know how loved he once was,
Or how valued his life may have been.

Before he crawled into his bed,
He prayed his soul to take.
Then curled up in the darkness,
And spent the night awake.

He dreaded the morning and all it would bring
But believed that it never could change.
For with the dawn of each new day,
That face in the mirror remained.

He longed to pull the covers up
And stay forever there.
And when the sun came creeping through,
He questioned if God even cared.

He grew weary from the struggle.
He longed to have one friend.
He wished they could accept him.
He just wanted to fit in.

But for him, school was a battlefield,
A place where he never felt safe.
And at times, he felt so much anger inside,
He worried how much more he could take.

He felt bruised and battered inside and out,
So he withdrew into himself.
He wanted to fight but didn't know how.
He wished that someone would help.

But he silently carried his hurt and his pain,
So ashamed that he acted so weak.
He tried not to cry and never complained.
He would take the abuse and retreat.

Sometimes he contemplated getting revenge.
Then some days he just wanted to hide.
Sometimes he thought he could kill everyone,
Then there were moments he wanted to die.

Every day he faced bullies, angry and mean.
They were always lurking out there.
They tried to destroy every ounce of esteem
And convinced him that nobody cared.

His life was a nightmare he had to endure,
And he wasn't alone in his pain.
He saw there were others who were different, like him,
And their torture and hurt was the same.

So is this the life that we wanted for them?
Should our children feel anger and fear?
And is this the legacy we'll leave behind,
Or should we save them while we are still here.

So instead of us arguing after the fact
And taking a stand that's too late,
We must teach them the value of kindness
And that differences should be embraced.

That the human spirit can be fragile and weak.
It can break in the blink of an eye.
And we must always respect others' dignity,
Or our humanity can't hope to survive.

The days of their youth remain in their hearts
And will color their future ahead.
So let's help them create a warm, welcome place,
Instead of a world filled with dread.

Depression is a monster
That destroys both heart and soul.
It tortures without mercy
And consumes its victim whole.

It cripples and disables,
Making life too hard to cope.
It can make each day a nightmare
And leave a person without hope.

Some people feel this sadness
From the time that they are young,
And believe that they are different
And can't be loved by anyone.

It's reinforced by parents
Too depressed themselves to care
For that child they're supposed to love,
But instead forget is there.

Depression can be nurtured
Through violence and neglect
And fists used only to degrade
And words used to reject.

It's hidden in those bullies
Who torture and demean,
Who use their words like weapons
To destroy all self-esteem.

It's fueled by those substances,
That are used to help escape.
From that endless pain depression brings
And that unbearable heartache.

It can cause someone to just give up,
To lose all strength to fight.
It can annihilate one's very soul
And make them take their life.

Yes, Depression is a vulture
That will make anyone its prey.
There is no one who deserves it,
And there is no one to blame.

We don't need to make a judgment,
But we need to be aware
That those who suffer through this pain
Just need the world to care.

Sometimes I dream that I can fly.
I lift and flap my arms just so,
And soon I'm soaring to the sky.
Graceful like a bird I go.

I find a fluffy cotton cloud
And catch myself a comfy ride.
I cannot hear a single sound,
As slowly through the air I glide.

My silky cloud floats with the breeze,
Through the bluest sky.
Just like a sailboat on the sea,
With seagulls swooping by.

I look upon the streets below
And spy my friends at play.
I dive and dip and twirl around,
As they watch in awe and wave.

I feel so giddy, light and free,
The sun so warm and bright.
I think that I shall fly all day,
And catch a star at night.

But then the wind begins to blow,
And the clouds turn angry gray.
They growl and rumble as they go,
And chase the birds away.

And though it's fun to touch the sky,
I start to feel alone.
I don't feel welcome anymore,
I think perhaps I should go home.

So I lift my arms and tuck my head,
And drift back to the ground.
And when my feet are back on earth,
The rain comes pouring down.

Indeed I had the grandest time,
Up in the boundless sky.
But it's really much too lonely there
To live in all the time.

And though my friends looked up to me
And my heroic flying feats,
It seemed they liked me just as much
When I stood on my two feet.

So I'll do my flying in my dreams,
Where it's all just make believe.
And in real life, I'll stay right here,
Where I'm loved just being me.