March 1, 2020

Dirge

I see myself as the dirge

or the slow sad lament

at least

or the song sung melancholic

at this concert of everybody’s lives

I’m told I hear myself different

than I’m heard by those around

but still

in the absence of other sound

this is the only melody I hear

self-assessment is a poor device

it yields such deceptive evaluation

yet pride

lurks behind another’s praise

I’ve never learned how to handle that