Your wink and your smile are priceless
And they're only two aspects of you
If you add all your aspects together
No sum could reflect their value
I've known for a while that I loved you
Much longer than stated or shown
By the time you confirmed from your inkling
The lilacs had already grown
Please don’t tell me your sad tale of woe
When I am deeply hurting inside,
Trying my best to not let anyone know
I am struggling to maintain my pride.
Courageously, I am following my guide
Keeping a smile on my face as I go,
Most of my days are a very difficult ride
Please don’t tell me your sad tale of woe.
I do want to be so sympathetic, to glow,
And I would never be snarky or chide
But it is difficult for my empathy to show
When I am hurting deeply down inside.
My depression runs deep, it’s hard to hide
Many days, in anguish, my tears overflow
While I am struggling to keep up my stride
Trying my best to not let anyone know.
So, I simply cannot handle another shadow
Another’s distressing story I cannot abide
While doing my best to go with the flow,
I am struggling to maintain my pride.
I can endure going in an out like the tide
With help I am managing my sorrow,
I have many good helpers by my side
If you have bad news today or tomorrow,
Please don’t tell me
Written June 9, 2022
[Although I do not suffer from depression,
I have counseled with many folks who do.]
The past overtakes you,
steps out from a door
you did not see before.
Distant bird song
becomes a crow caw in your ears.
You recall all those yesterdays
and wonder,
wonder if you had
taken a different path
would you be here now
or somewhere better?
I mean,
it's not as if you had the life-skills
to manage this day or tomorrow,
but you choose to forget that
and that may be the best choice.
The white lies of late December are upon us.
Frozen fish dream of warm tape water.
Every step is a cliff-top until April
then we surrender again to the telltale myths,
the cheerful fraudulence.
Only the old survive all this;
beautiful people wash-up on sandy beaches
create more buttery lobster commercials,
evening gowns drip like sequined icebergs.
The young are headlong as usual
and will not stop
until they mend us into their dreams,
they sew our jester hats
with a pitying love just as we did.
It’s impossible to regret anything
when the very ground under our feet
is begging for more fables, more of anything
to keep us going in a direction identified as forward.
We who still dispense the sweet nothings
of glassy-eyes wizards,
must be seen as fully clothed,
able to function on the old fictions
steady, and not sinking into our frozen boots.
When passions are inflamed, blunt words turn sharp and cut deep
Which is why it's important to pause, take deep breaths, and count to ten
Rather than thrust anger like an epee, just to impale
Date written and posted: 06/12/2019
they don't know
the uneven work
we do
the hard and soft
moment to moment
dirt on the floor
dirt on the eyes
unsure of our future.