The Cure
Teach me the lullaby
for a heart that dreams too greatly.
Teach me to sing passion to sleep
and soothe the thirst which so innately
vexes me. There must be some way
to calm the aching,
to distract the fervent mind,
and coax the spirit into breaking.
Write me a prescription
for reality, and insist that I take
my daily dose. Inject me with vaccines
of harsh fact. Ensure I stay awake.
Surely you know, you must,
so stable in your comfort, so secure
in your routine, ordinary life…
Yes, you must know the cure.
– s. Clark
You don’t have to fight this battle,
You don’t have to face the pain
If you will not risk the failure,
Then you cannot take the blame.
It will all happen without you,
You will just be left behind.
You will only miss the victory
And glory you would find.
In this war, there will be martyrs,
And the ash will be their shroud.
And some also will be heroes,
Rising from the smoke, unbowed.
We will raise, and fall, and conquer,
Facing, fearing our defeat,
But how hard-fought is the battle
Will make triumph twice as sweet!
At the moment our Commander
Calls the cry, “The war is won!”
And each voice joins in, resounding,
And each man is named His son,
Will you risk to miss that moment,
When the fight is worth it all?
At the chance to meet your purpose,
Will you cower at the call?
– s. Clark
You are More
You are not only your muscles and bones
You are spirit and will
You are fire and stone
Life is not made of just blood in your veins
You are anguish and rage
You are lightening and rain
You are not built of synapses and skin
You are made up of dreams,
Oceans storming within
How could you be broken, or fear the night?
You are stars in the dark
You are warmth, you are light
No one can box you, or measure your worth
You are spirit and song
You are wide as the earth
Though life will hurt you, and paint you with scars
Let no one convince you
You are less than you are
– s. Clark
I will not sleep beneath the breath
Of ice, that freezes. “Wait for death”
It soothes, as though that is the goal
That waits my writhing, striving soul.
“I’ll set this soul ablaze!” I cry,
“And soar to cinders through the sky!
I’d rather burn to ashen dust
Than die within this frozen crust
Of apathy.” To pierce the night…
My purpose is to shine, to fight!
And not that I should safely stand,
Unchallenged, in this tundra-land.
Not so! This world will burn along
With me, and learn to sing my song
Of light. And should the fire die,
At least I will have lit the sky.
– s. Clark
Mortal Needs
Food and rest are mortal needs
No self-respecting hero heeds,
They simply keep my strides at bay,
And slow me on my questing way
So what need I their burdens for?
They are mere trifles, nothing more.
– s. Clark
Shigé Clark Writing 