If you look at me,

you might never know I can cry,

in a heartbeat,

perhaps just seeing the joy of another,

might be,

the story of love shared by someone

who lost another,

or even the quiet

reality

of personal success,

that platitude of reaching for our goals,

when we ourselves

were not even involved in your achievement.

 

When tears cleanse our soul,

we might feel the river’s current,

sweep across the horizon

to lift our spirits above the remains.

We would drown ourselves

in the beauty of an icy run toward

finding our way

outside the dream,

inside our own world,

the today that brought us

a tear.

 

I once stood alone

while the world around me

continued their walks,

their drive to work,

an argument became

the normalcy of that life.

I stood alone,

and recognized loss,

in the form of death.

When I said good-bye to you,

I was more concerned about how

very cool the purple was,

rather than the sad reality

knowing your remains

would only bring more tears.

 

The other day I said hello again,

now those were real tears.