But at Least the Ears are Open

It is hard tonight to have arms.
Rather to give them to the trees.

Say, “Here, I have no use for these.”
Rather to offer them to the earth

than to hold this burden of grief.
Rather to lie in the strange bed alone

without the arms, without their groping
long into the night for answers. There is

some urge that rises up to insist,
“You love life!” like a cheerleader

who has not been paying attention
to the game. It is true, I believe,

but tonight what is as true is
that it is hard to have eyes

that burn from the long day of tears.
It is hard to have eyes that look

everywhere and do not find
the face in the crowd. And it is hard

to have eyes. It is hard to have arms.
For the time being, I sit, noticing

the hard seat of the chair beneath me.
I have not heard a raven song for days.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s