“Tears are words that need to be written.” Paulo Coelho
Tears stream down,
Abruptly
Arrogantly.
No omens
Had spoken.
Salty tracks
Baffling.
Familiar.
Like old friends
Who bluntly left
And whom you’ve tried
Hard to forget.
Wonted pain,
You again,
Implacable,
No form, no name.
Shallow breathing,
Heavy breathing,
Disarmed
I try
Not to move.
A marble statue,
No cracks.
Cold
Staunch
Its deadness, a tomb.
I try.
Release, release,
The tambourine beats,
Break the dam walls;
Damn walls!
Hadn’t I torn you down?
Down, down
Conquest is
The resolute quest
Not of Perseus,
Not of Theseus,
But of ants
Who never rest.
Sisyphus give me strength.
Fear’s clutches and claws come for me,
The old ghosts come to haunt.
And I, now gaunt,
Need to believe,
That the Fates are dead,
Their shears blunt,
Their woven thread
No longer looming
Over my head.
If I could only breathe
These hounding doubts
These phantom wreaths
I know would simply cease.
But not too loud, not too deep,
Bear the mask and the deceit,
And not the feels that reveal
Everything you know is real.