The sun is out
But I see only gray;
A perfect finish
To an exhausting day.
Drained emotionally,
Numbed with fears,
I wish I had the answers
That could dry up my tears.
Yet, those don't exist
No solutions can be found,
No savior has manifested—
To death I am bound.
The angels they mock me,
The saints just look down;
The church is a stumbling block
Planted, like death, in the ground.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
Originally published on tristanrobertlange.com, September 4, 2025.
Tittu
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline)
- Published: September 4th, 2025 08:37
- Comment from author about the poem: For Throwback Thursday. Written around 2009 during a season of exhaustion and despair.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: Priya Tomar, RSM0812, Teddy.15, Friendship
Comments7
Religion often does not offer the answers to temporal questions and in practicality seems an obstacle rather than a way. Nicely worded
Soren, I appreciate your thoughtful read. For me, if I remember correctly from the time period, this one was venting...the weight I feel when religion flips from serving people to making people serve it...adhering to rigid rules that end up harming instead of healing. Thatβs such a stumbling block as aI see it. Anyway, thank you for your deep engagement, as always, my friend. ππͺ¦ππ
My pleasure Tristan
Well woven ....
Very nice...
Thank you so much, my friend! ππͺ¦ππ
Your message is one of sadness and despair put in words that create clear imagery of hoplessness. I liked this write very much. Nice job.
Thank you my friend, I appreciate that. Glad it delivered. ππͺ¦ππ
Death is so imminent, and we know its destiny. That often either brings hope or despair. Well-written poem from many years ago!
Beautifully put. Death does press in both ways...sometimes despair, sometimes hope. Indeed! Grateful for your reflection, my friend. ππͺ¦ππ
Of course! Thanks for writing!
You are most welcome!
Baby, you need move, π€£ ah we all have these type years or moments I know I have. πΉ
Haha, dearest Teddy...youβre totally right. We all get those moments/years. This one was definitely me spilling out a rough season.π€£ Grateful for you, my friend. ππͺ¦ππ
This poem conveys a profound emotional drain and a sense of isolation in their struggles, leaving them feeling that there are no solutions to their pain. The poet includes themes of existential crisis, the burden of unanswered questions, and a disconnection from faith and spiritual support, as represented by the "angels," "saints," and "the church." very heavy on my heart. Well written my friend,
My friend, I appreciate that. You caught the isolation, the silence, the disconnection I was venting from that season of exhaustion. Heavy indeed. Iβm grateful for your read and thoughts, my dear friend. ππͺ¦ππ
Sounds like many a day that I have lived through, barely getting by! That exhausted despair is so familiar...
So familiar...so very real. Indeed, my friend. Good, at least, to know we're not alone. πΉπ€π Thanks again for your time and thoughts. Much appreciated.
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