Friday, March 03, 2017

Cry

: Of Grief I

(To Ahmad)

Like an autumn tired of the heat

Like a streetlamp bored of its corner

Cry, in every tear, a star, a name, a pair of eyes

Cry, for us, who have dried...


(Originally posted on Aug. 4, 2005; re-posted on July 24, 2006 and July 24, 2014)

2 comments:

katy said...

having had a spout of block lately (feeling rather unispired by the mid-summer humidity and airid nature of my day-to-day a the moment, i completely feel this poem.
and thinking about it... listening to it... cry is stuch a stale word, it's history is so littered and cracked... interesting how a single word can drudge up so much in a human mind.
thank you for sharing your work

Anonymous said...

I agree with Katy that “cry is stuch a stale word, it's history is so littered and cracked.”

Now this might sound pretentiously funny, but what our instructors do to our designs sometimes is hide certain parts of our sketches to show us that our design can fare better without this figure or that circle. I could not help doing that to the “cry” in your poem, maintaining just the very last “cry,” and I found the whole thing to have become so much sturdier and more expressive. I really like all that remained, especially the very last line. How I, personally, can now relate to that!

I miss you,
Ton frère Ahmad