We Can't Even Cry.

We Can’t Even Cry.

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“Now something so sad has hold of us that the breath leaves and we can’t even cry.” ~ Charles Bukowski

My bones are tired today.

My heart aches at being. The petty pace of life has rubbed me raw today.

I curl inside my love’s arms at night and wait for the anxiety to leave.

It drifts away, bit by bit, the tension in my jaw easing.

It isn’t until I relax that I realize how painfully wound I have been,

a ball of unhappiness and dread.

Uncramp my muscles.

Loosen my hair, lengthen my body along his.

Breathe.

Some days are heavy and we must shake them off at dusk like so much collected snow on a tree branch.

We have bent to bear the weight, and freed, we rise again to meet the coming dawn.

Sunshine, tomorrow, perhaps. Or rain.

There are no guarantees, in life, in love, in any of this mess.

A hard day does not mean an easier one will always follow.

I’ve learned lessons today, solid ones—unglamorous and dirty,

and I will carry them forward tomorrow, perhaps

the knowing less heavy than the learning.

Some days are meant to bear burdens.

To teach us, through experience, again and again.

I once drowned days like this in vodka.

Instead of your arms my place of retirement—the darkest corner I could inhabit.

Now—bring me the dark days, the deep lessons, the hours that wound and challenge.

I will meet them with a head held high, a beginner’s mind, a heart wide open.

I will let the bleakness go at night, and begin anew tomorrow.

Discard the mistakes and venture forth wealthier with wisdom.

On days that make even my skin painful to touch, I remind myself of this:

You made it through the darkness once.

You will again, and again, and again.

“Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know.” ~ Pema Chodron

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