Crystal Blur of Tears
Losing occupation,
Broken soul confrontation,
It is what occupies us
As we sift through sorrow.
The mind is not idle or at peace,
So to be occupied, we cry.
No, that is not correct
We are not in control.
We who cry are not in control.
This is not a choice, not a decision.
The out of control see
The Abyss, yes,
And the fear of falling,
Fear of the dark,
Fear of being alone,
Fear of being unloved,
Fear of having made a
Searing and fatal mistake.
Monsters rise
From their depths
And we cry
As we remember…
What shall I remember?
A beautiful, ancient memory of snow and
Walking and kissing in Central Park,
Or a terrible memory of
The way he would not listen,
The way I could not
Capture his attention.
Warm and oozing,
Hot even, when at their worst,
But soon tears cool,
On cheeks and down the
Neck they cool.
And the eyes, crystal springs
And source
For crying and all the tears,
Burn; my eyes burn.
There is a sting as the
Tears push through.
Salt. Is it salt?
Through the days, weeks,
Months that followed
The crack, the great divide
in my life, I cried.
I cried so much–
A river, like Ella, I cried a river.
I cried a foolish flood,
So much that I lost weight,
So much that I was loud.
Sobs, breathing, sobbing
In a rough rhythm. Crack-up crying
Has a sob, an unsung sound,
That I don’t remember
Hearing in earlier tragedies.
Triggers. Heartbreak songs,
My public playlist on YouTube,
Crack-up Favorites.
For example, Neil Young,
“I went insane like a smoke-ring day…”
That time when Sweetness and Jules
Came to comfort me,
She stood beside me, and I buried
My face in her belly, little belly,
That made her a mother and
Now pillowed her crazy friend.
Tears have a partner named Pain
Who twists in every muscle
With a tension that coils and coils
Like the hanging rope that
Can snap a life in an instant
Or leave you there to dangle
And dwindle in slow suffering.
The mind thinks the
Thoughts of all trapped animals.
“What is happening to me?”
“Is this the end?”
“Will I die?”
“Please, don’t let me suffer.”
These death wish thoughts
Coil and coil, wrap and wrap
The trapped animal.
Release would be merciful.
Tears could be a release,
A drop of mercy falling like rain
From the shifting vault of Heaven.
But it is too soon to hope for release
Because it is not just the wet mess of tears,
The oozing, and it’s not just the coil of tension,
The contorted, tortured face,
It’s the tears inside my head,
The clogged contagion of
Wrong and hurt and
A back-stab to the heart.
The tears, the hot wash, and the eyes close,
The mouth moans and moans,
And the paws of the trapped animal
Paw and dig at the air
To escape the inescapable end
As the pain grips and holds,
Tears and rends the tender flesh.
So sorry that it still hits you like it does. I will do my best to make it better than ever for you! XXXOOO!
I stall and stumble through this loneliness.
Where I’m heading, I could only guess.
I keep the household running, but I’m hard pressed.
So I CRY OUT LOUD!
“I’m O.K. I’m a big girl now.”
Scott, are you sending me a poem? Thanks for reading and commenting.
Your poem is so achingly true and powerful. The lines I sent are from a song I wrote seven weeks after Betsy died, “I’m O.K.” being the ultimate irony, and a way of holding myself at the same time. That period of grief, the most intense experience of my life, is the best point of reference I can find to understand your pain. I offered up the lines to you as a little token of solidarity, and meant to include some explanation, but accidentally hit the send button too soon. Please keep writing. It does us all good.
Wow. Amazing. Wonderful piece Rosa. This is very, very powerful work.
thank you for writing….the beauty of your words