Tears

I found my feet taking me to a familiar place, over dirt and grass and 3-leaf clovers. A place that has stood witness to a life I seem to have to call my own. Lonesome steps I took, for though I am called by many, lonesome is my name.

There, old rough wood, some steel and some paint that have seen too many winters so cohesively insist to sit high on that retaining wall overlooking hills, valleys and a castle. And a sky, that has just bid its sun farewell in songs of deep red and serenades of orange.

Falling apart, I sat on that bench that seems to just be able to hold itself together through winters and springs and sunrises and sunsets.

They came with ease this time, the songs and serenades of farewell to a sun that made this winter warm. Without wishing this time, without trying, warm and saline they came, and with them and stream of emotions left unfelt for too long. Love, happiness, communion, acceptance, doubt, guilt, regret, peace, pain, sadness and sweetness…they all came and settled.

But they overstayed their welcome. Now they tend to spill with every thought of setting suns, with every hint of motherless children and childless mothers, lonely lovers, floating bodies with spirits sinking, bleeding, aching. Why oh why? Oh the pain and the yearning, does anyone hear these unspoken words? They sit there at the top of my stomach, all jumbled together and they settle.

Why does it have to be this way? Why?