Things I Left in the Valley of Despair

I walk along a painful path 

I never hoped to see,

A trail of tears and sorrow, 

paved with insecurity.

I long to run ahead, 

to leave this valley that I’m in,

To find a greener pasture 

and forget where I have been.

The place where I have come from 

is so very far away,

And I can’t see the end in sight, 

so in the valley I must stay.

Yet I suspect this wasteland 

is right where I need to be,

And all this pain is healing 

something deep-seated in me.

For as I turn and survey 

the broken path which I have trod,

I see a trail of cast-off armor 

strewn along the dusty sod.

Over there are the boots of business, 

now worn thin from overuse,

And the breastplate of indifference 

that helped me stay emotionally aloof.

There’s the shield of self-sufficiency, 

which I always hid behind,

And the helmet plumed with pride, 

which always seemed to make me blind.

A part of me wants to double back, 

to collect the things I’ve left below,

Those vestiges of “masculinity” 

that I forged so long ago;

Perhaps I thought they’d make me look 

like the man I hoped to be,

Or protect my heart from the wounds 

that relationships inflict so naturally.

But all they did was weigh me down 

with loads of anxiousness,

Not to mention fear and shame, 

anger and distress.

True, you may say, I’m more vulnerable 

without my armored shell,

And perhaps I should collect the pieces 

from the places where they fell,

But I’m content to let them stay 

along the path where they now lie,

And journey onward through this valley 

where my false-self came to die.