Six years ago

cris in a hopper  digital media Anne Corr

Tears, no tears

Fifteen years I wanted to cry;
wished I would,
wanted the comfort of knowing I could.
An elephant dies
and I am drowning,
choking in emotion, and you say
“it’s just
a programme on t.v,
children in Africa die
all the time;”
What did that mean?
Should that have been the dam;
plugged this
embarassment of riches,
dried me up?
You’re twelve, tortoise -shelled
to shield from
all the carnage. You see;
you just don’t see
the point ; all the tears in the world
won’t cleanse the pain.

You see it true. Unflinching.

I want to be brave like you,

wanting to live
never forgetting
how to pitch

your weight against the day.

 

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