Man of Woe

Some souls carry burdens too heavy for the world to see, their struggles etched into the fabric of their existence like silent scars. This poem paints the portrait of a man whose pain is evident in the worn-out soles of his boots, the rust on his cutlass, and the quiet hymn he hums to himself. He is a man of woe, of pride – one who has learned to walk alone, refusing help even when kindness extends a hand. His story is one of battles fought in solitude, and of a heart hardened by life’s relentless trials. Yet, beneath his quiet suffering, there is a glimmer of hope, a plea for him to not surrender to despair. This poem is a tribute to those who bear their burdens in silence, reminding them that even in their darkest moments, they deserve another chance at light.

Man of Woe

With a dirty little bicycle at his side
Walking up the hill like someone just died
Holding a cutlass so old and rusty
And a bag so torn, but yet so trusty
His cracked boots bore tears
He had been wearing them for years
He was beaded in perspiration
As he carried on in quiet desperation

I saw him walking so lonely and sad
In weary clothes, it was all he had
I heard him humming a gentle hymn
Under a crooked hat with no brim
He looked up briefly to say hello
He said he’d seen me here before
And when I offered to assist
He said, ‘no thanks’, with a clenched fist

I paused for a moment, taken aback
Deciding if I should retract
His tear-stained face I could see
“I need no help,” he said, “just let me be.”
He got on his bike and started to peddle
Turned to me and yelled, ‘please don’t meddle’
Though his words hurt that night
I knew what I did was still right

Man of woe, man of pride
Try as you may, pain you can’t hide
Do not retreat out of fear
Do not lose hope in your time of despair
You’ve borne your pain, a heavy, weary song
And wondered where your path went wrong
But do not yield, nor let your spirit part
Begin anew, you deserve a new start