I write as a form of confession
I scribble what I’ve seen
and felt
I’ve witnessed the passage of time
I watch and listen
a hermit I’ve become
The man on the subway
sits so still and straight
a single tear rolls down his cheek
No one notices
faces in books, e-readers or newspapers
all standing apart, all eyes averted
He looks at me
no expression on his face
blank, his feelings held deep inside
I look back
my feelings too are held deep inside
I greet him with a single tear
We both lower our eyes
back to our folded hands
too much has been shared
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Comments
My tears over flow like a faucet. I cannot hold them back sometimes. I feel no one understands me. I wish that someone could crawl inside my head and figure me out.
You might be one of the few people who understand the last line I wrote in my blog. I encrypted it because of fear, shame, and just so many emotions I should not feel but I do because I feel I am locked in a box at the moment, wishing, and wishing to be me.
Blessed be. )0(
♥
Powerful, Mary. What it says to me is that there is always someone who "gets it", who is going through what we are going through & sometimes all we need is a stare, a tear, a smile.
nope, not those people.
why don't they just go all out &
have computers implanted in their brainstems?
some of us still notice,
and we share, and when it is too much,
we retreat.
but at least something was shared...!
very lovely poem...