Literature
Leaving Behind
I hear you telling me how to live,
when my tears are already there,
sliding down my cheeks in silent abandon.
I hear you rushing around afraid to stop,
when the wind rises up and stirs the muggy air,
enjoying a moment in my own pace.
I hear you like the honey hive,
the community buzzing with your secret lies,
serving me with bitter stinging sweetness.
Would you, could you, be a friend?
Who cannot stop to listen,
Who cannot let me grieve,
Who cannot offer me freedom to be.
I may be lost, but the wandering has purpose.
I may be hurt, but the pain reminds me I live.
I may be sad, but it reminds me of true happiness.
It reminds me