tears
hitting the wall with a tired smack
a dishrag, mangled, closes its eyes.
oh, Lord, my life holds so little.
of all the little things this meant the most.
i felt the tears slide down
my face, clung to my lashes,
dripped from my nose, onto my
lips but i didn't drink:
i promised myself i'd never
taste those tears again.
i said this in hopes i'd never cry.
i wiped my eyes with the rag.
my rag, always there for me when
i need it, and i need it now.
i punched the numbers in, hoping
to find a voice of comfort on the
other end but nobody answered.
you're alone, little girl, just alone.
only your tears can console you.
tears you shouldn't shed like this.
i throw this dishrag in anger
hoping it would cross oceans.
do you cry, worn piece of cloth?
do you sometimes feel as i do?
one day i woke up and someone
welcomed me to Heaven's gates.
the next it seemed i was
tossed back into Hell on earth.
nothing changed, i'm still alone
but perhaps empty; now i'm blind.
at least, i can see this rag.
of anything else, my eyes are weak.
i feel. i never asked to, i never had
felt before so i didn't miss it.
now that it's here i wish it could
go back to wherever it came from.
my days were so vibrant, pure.
desolate days are upon me now.
again, i'll wring out my tears
and pretend they never fell.
7/9/96