He says, you’re not weak.
I sit, slightly shaking,
looking into his eyes,
trying to trust his truth,
like imagining traveling to a star
300 million light years away.
Through a massive burst of tears, trembling,
I tell him, you don’t see what’s inside.
Each day, I’m not sure I will make it.
That is weak.
He asks, you’re here, aren’t you?
I try to smile.
Maybe I was strong today.
#1 by Giovanni Cucullo on February 4, 2011 - 8:54 am
Can I save all of this? I ask every time,
Extremely moving work.
“but she tells me I was not made to tingle
with love all of the time. I was made to
blow up in joy when it comes,
however rarely it comes,
to hurt at all the other times,
and to help others to soothe their hurt,
removing mine while soothing theirs.”
This is powerful and revealing, from the heart of a wounded warrior.
#2 by Carl on February 5, 2011 - 8:01 am
Thank you, Gio! Your comments are very kind.
#3 by Jingle on February 4, 2011 - 10:22 am
hope you well…
#4 by Carl on February 5, 2011 - 8:01 am
Thank you, Jingle!
#5 by Evelyn on February 4, 2011 - 8:10 pm
This poem is a complete experience I have had too many times.
Its a snapshot from my life. I swear.
This brought me to tears. Amazing work Carl.
#6 by Carl on February 5, 2011 - 8:03 am
Thank you, Evelyn! Your comment means the world to me.
#7 by Evelyn on February 7, 2011 - 8:03 pm
back reading it again.
eyes still filling.
Cant believe someone else feels this way…
#8 by Carl on February 7, 2011 - 11:39 pm
This was terribly honest. I need to be terribly honest more often. Thank you for identifying and being so kind!
#9 by Marian on February 5, 2011 - 1:50 pm
today. and then tomorrow, you’ll see.
thanks for sharing, carl.
#10 by Carl on February 5, 2011 - 11:14 pm
Thank you, Marian! I am hoping for tomorrow too.