Tears Then Rain And Fire

There is one thing I could do:
cry like a rough wind. It might be
enough. So why I can’t shake a feeling
that it will not do?

I don’t stop
from shivering, from my body
trembling like a figure from legend
or a television show.

There are times
I startle back to consciousness
and man, oh man, I want to sob
and rend my clothing.

But then I look at my self,
my piece in this game we play,
my worn form, my bumpy face
and scarred arms still holding on.

I buck up. I bite down
and hold on like a pit bull
until weary, then I let go
and slip back to dream-state.

Man, oh man, I wish there was
another way to go but there isn’t
any obvious, no easy passage. I buck up
instead, bite down, am silent. Don’t cry.

Little man, little ape: you won’t recall
much of this in a minute or two.
Leave it and those left behind with it
will deal; cursing you, no doubt.

Don’t worry about anything. There will be
sunshine, tears, rain, fire.
What you care about
is unimportant. Be well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T