A Siren’s

Sadness travels with the speed of a gazelle.

It needs no airline ticket nor a well worn passport.

It carries no baggage, yet it is highly contagious.

There are no vaccines to inoculate against its puncture.

Sadness lurks everywhere, hidden behind bravado sometimes covered by sparkling sequins or

the dignity of a tuxedo

Often it is transported in a statement purse or designer luggage wrapped in frothy tulle

It spits out venom without warning and occasionally is sprinkled with brittle humor

Sadness leaves a scar that can become indelible if allowed entry into a heart that is broken

Once its sting was obvious worn like protective armor and shared by a common humanity

Now it has changed clothing in a highly divided society and is far more subtle

Today’s sadness may be even more sinister when it wraps its tentacles around your soul and chants the siren’s call

And gently murmurs:

“Give up, surrender, be sad like me.”

And you forget to whisper back,

“No, there is always hope.”

Because If you do not believe what you are saying

Sadness will win, and love will die.

So beware:

Sadness travels with the speed of a gazelle.