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.