And I Cry

Outworn
And overused
Cliches
Bombard my mind,
So I reduce myself
To think of them
As a bomber blasting
It’s target into
A thousand smithereens
And then dissipating
Like a contrail
Of a silver jet
Jutting cross the summer blue sky.

And I cry.

I think of actions unseen
And thoughts
Not expressed.
At times
Silence is the only friend
As it remains an enemy.

The walls are quiet tonight,
This night
When I wish them to speak
For even the gnashing and wailing
Are better than the stolid silence-
The silence,
The silence.

And I cry.

Poets think deep thoughts
And express great emotion
Centering on man’s base instincts
His want
His needs
His lust
His survival.

When intercourse graduated from
Necessity
To expression
The poets took note
And wrote
For the next thousand years
In praise.
Why does it take me thousand years alone
To find one empty night
In the arms of a whore
In mocked, desperate excitement
For nothing but lust.
And I shame.

And I cry.

My God!
My Heart,
Quit beating,
Only the soul can survive
Out of self-pity,
I refuse to suffer.
Like others before me
And others to come
I shall march
And hold my course
To the second star on the right
And never turn away
From the pain I feel today,
Why must I stay?

And I cry.

The brook gurgles gently
Methodically.
Nature heals when man torments
And I allow myself the luxury
Of self-pity
And selfcentered-thoughts
For but a moment before I cry
For even I,
Yes even I,
Can still cry.

But I cry alone.