Sometimes I grow tired
not only of the world
but of the wars
that live quietly within me.
Tired in my body,
where every breath can feel heavy,
tired in my mind,
where thoughts gather like storm clouds
and never seem to leave.
I have carried myself
through days that asked too much,
through nights that would not soften,
through the silent fight
of simply staying whole.
And still—
even here, even now—
there is a small, stubborn flame
refusing to go out.
It flickers in the dark.
It bends.
It trembles.
But it remains.
So if I am tired,
let it be known:
I am not gone.
I am only weary
from being brave so long.
And somewhere beneath this weight,
I am still here,
still breathing,
still becoming
something gentle again.
-
Author:
Joseph M Marion (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 27th, 2026 16:42
- Category: Letter
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Joseph M Marion, Black Willow

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Comments2
Stick with it. A poem of perseverance and continuing on. Well done
I write it as I feel it thank you my brother
You are very welcome
Beautiful poetry! Thank you, this gives me so much hope.
At times life may seem cool and may cut you faster than a sharp knife but till I despair there comes wisdom that is sent to the grace of the Lord God you're welcome and I do try to inspire to lift
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