Shigé Clark Writing



In Hatred’s Desolation

In Hatred's Desolation.png

Theme Week: Selfless – 1

Compassion from Pain

She learned to say “I love you”
When she went to say goodbye,
And taught herself to smile
Even with no reason why.
She could not find a light source
In the dark and cold of earth,
So she became a candle,
Warming others with her mirth.
She could not heal her own heart,
It was far beyond that hope.
She could not reach a lifeline,
So she chose to be a rope
For others to take hold of,
Pulling at her strength to rise.
You never see her heartache
Past the love that fills her eyes.

– s. Clark

Raised Walls

Let loose the barricade! The briar
woven by the hurtful woes
and twisted into brittle spire,
unbroken by the swell of fire,
frozen thickly as it grows.

Yet breaks the cold and massive bastion,
not upon the violent throws
of ardor and aggressive action,
but, soft, the whisper of compassion
melting, splitting where it goes.

– s. Clark

Something about a Candle

There is something about a candle.
So patient, and so calm
Slowly, softly, just existing
So frail, and yet so bright and merry
Fiercely burning, for the small life that it has
Bringing light and warmth
And sweet-smelling joy
Only gives, only provides, for its time is short

– s. Clark


Some people are walking around this world raw,
So be careful when you are near them
They lie open, torn by some other man’s maw.
Take heed of their hurt, try to hear them.
They sting at the true, gentle touch of a friend,
Your bright smile burns them like flame.
They are walking wounded, who cannot defend,
They are vulnerable and in pain.
So please, friend, be kind, and try to understand,
Their cruelty is born of their grief.
Their story goes deeper than ever they planned…
And your love could be their relief.

– s. Clark

He told her she encouraged him
And that it was her gift,
And it was ever her delight
To give his soul a lift.
But to be clear, she would not stand
To call it flattery,
When she would never deign to tell
A lake it was the sea.

She showed him how her heart could be
So fearful of its flaws,
And how her house of confidence
Was really built of straws.
And standing in her house of straw,
She looked out from her door
And noticed that the houses there
Were built of not much more.

She thought of how she wished sometimes
That when others saw good
Within her soul, that they would want
To tell her, and they would.
So she resolved within her heart,
“If I’m to build a home,
I’ll use the wood to build them up,
And hope they’ll build my own.”

– s. Clark

I Am small

I am small
and just want to believe
small things can mark the world
despite themselves. So please,
don’t’ tell me I am small.
I know it all too well,
but if It turns out I can lead
one sweet soul from the fell
grasp of despair, I will have won,
I will have won it all.
Do not give me my limits, for
I know that I am small.

– s. Clark

Unseen Scars

What if the scars we wore inside
Scrawled out across our skin?
Would we judge less the broken souls
For all their hurts within?
Would we forgive their selfish ways
And scoffing at the stars?
Would we be patient with their pains
If we could see the scars?

– s. Clark

The Giving Souls

There are those who slip like sunbeams
Through the shades that you’ve drawn down,
Who can rush like sudden air into
Your lungs before you drown.
Those who’ve been the lilting song-bird
In the heart of winter’s chill,
Or the bush of wild berries
As you crest a thorn-choked hill.
They’re the steaming cup of coffee
Given at the midnight guard,
Twinkling light that can turn what was
Only blackness into stars.
There are people who remind us
There is music in the noise,
There is beauty in the broken,
And still light within the void.
There are those who have been laughter
Bursting from a hollow heart,
To bring unexpected comfort
In a world that’s torn apart.

– s. Clark

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