The air we breathe

When it hurts to feel

Our own hearts beat

When tears attack

Our puckered faces

We survivors know

The hard part’s here at last

The sorrow, the grief

The pain and anguish

Either bottled inside

Or unleashed for a while

Which is better?

Who knows?

Not I.

But I believe

It’s better to cry

What if I can’t?

What if I hide?

Will it kill me inside?

Have I already died?

No. Not I.

Why the stoic stance?

Why not let it go?

Because I can’t get life done

If I cry the day away

Maybe if I cried

The pain would go away

Then perhaps I could

Get everything done

Just like I know I can.

Why should I grieve

For something that isn’t dead

For something that simply is

Because it’s stuck

It’s stuck in my head

Pounding away

Bursting out

Just when I least expect it

I feel the sorrow

Then feel the fear

Then feel the anger

The desire to pound

My fists into a solid wall

Or into a punching bag

Or pound away,

Running hard

Harder, faster

Physical pain

Can cloud the emotions

Can free the mind

Such concentration

My tears won’t fall

I won’t allow it

Alack!

Oh my soul

My heart

It hurts