The Stranger

A poem about inner feelings of sadness

The Stranger

Who is this strange woman
Who stands before me now?
Her eyes so full of sadness
A frown upon her brow
What hurt has she gone through
How measure her pain
Who is this strange woman
Who haunts me now again?

Who is this sorrowed lady
Who looks into my eyes?
I’ve seen her face before
But in another guise
She’s older now and tired
She’s given up the fight
Who is this sorrowed lady
Who haunts me in the night?

Who is this silent witness
Who greets me with a sigh
She’s nothing left to say
Her well of words run dry
Her soul’s a fount of sadness
That’s spilled across the years
Who is this silent witness
Who’s only words are tears?

Who is this weary stranger
Who came into my life?
She’s seen her share of sadness
And much much more of strife
She’s borne a thousand crosses
She’ll probably bear more
Who is this weary stranger
Who haunts me to my core?

Who is this sad enigma
Who never leaves my side?
I can’t seem to escape her
She knows now where I hide
I look into the mirror
And it’s her I see
Who is this sad enigma
If it isn’t me?