Anything Else

 
I want to write about something else.
Maybe about the daffodils finally in bloom -
a flowery description of their sunshiney faces.
Or maybe about dad’s seashell collection -
whispers of his life before I came into being.
I’d like to write about piano keys
or soft doggy ears
or the taste of pineapple
or anything, really, that’s outside of myself --

But everything comes out tasting of tears,
sounding like echoes in an empty chest;
No matter how I try to steer my thoughts,
they turn back into this constant ache…
and I’m crying for scars I gained in the past
and I’m crying for friends I miss in the present
and I’m crying for losses yet to come.
I promised to keep my heart open, not closed,
but I’m crying, how long, Lord? how long must I cry?
And I’m trying to keep all my crying inside
so it won’t be alarming to those with dry eyes…

But the pain, this ache, just won’t come to an end
as long as there are people I care about,
And frankly it’s getting ridiculous now
The sky is still gray and I’m still full of fears
I’m going to drown in this lake of tears
And I just want to write about something else.