Sometimes at night
when the sky
is darker than my dreams
and sometimes
when the day is grey
sun-less and too sad
even for shadows to play I hide
inside myself creep through that porous
part of me where tears and sighs escape
seeking a silence uninterrupted
by screams a soft silence where memory
plays a song and I recall the melody
and hum along
Sometimes I pretend
there are no tears no fears no wounds
no blood no loneliness no ache
no endless hours
where wanting weeps into desire
desire surrenders
to despair
there somewhere between
sensing and knowing
beyond what even faith
can nurture
I try to tame the pain
and then the anger takes me
breaks me like a crystal
glass shattered by the knowing
who am I to be so broken who am I
to suffer so insanely inanely
blaming everything and everyone
for hurt that drifts about
me like an ocean’s fog
thinning sometimes just enough
for me to see the light
it’s harsh and
blinding the world unwinding
in its glare
there I see the truth
I hide from there I see
that I am so much more
than me
I feel and know and grope
for hope in a sullied world
inside the minds the hearts of every broken
soul I weep for lives unlived and promises
broken for every token right
that cannot possibly undo the wrongs
everything we knew of you
was gone vanishing like smoke
Into a windy ski your eyes vague
unfocused your hands bony
cold even the scent of you
morphed into something musty and old
unpleasant the way your head moved
on the pillow as though you were trying
to repudiate the truth
life ends standing
on the edge of death you
were no longer you just a shadow
cast by shadows the arrogance the anger
spilled into the soil of your days
desiccated by the dry summer and crusty
fall now it is winter and there is
nowhere to run nowhere to hide
tears spill down your crinkled cheeks
like blood from a small wound dying tests
you bests you and you who raged your way
through life die quietly
before my eyes
and so I hide inside myself
pretending
that I never knew
that which is unalterably true
you are me and I am you
Susan A. Katz