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Keep Crying Inside Until The Tears Flow
A sonnet
Until I was quite old I hardly cried.
Quite near to middle aged, I seem to think.
Not big on feeling sorry. Too much pride.
But who am I to kid, my heart would sink.
Been better crying softly, eyes turned red
then screeming words, this rage, I sometimes do.
Or seething anger, silently instead.
The problem feels intractable and you
and I won’t even say whatever it
our problem really is. We fall apart.
So now I’m back to that, I just should quit.
Take time just feeling sorry, a good start.
So let those tears be nourishing spring rain.
Release the anger. Let’s forgive the pain.
This sonnet written in response to Kallol Mazumdar and his April prompt, to write about true tears…
and please read Kallol’s update with some very beautiful poems on the prompt…
