it is all messy

There is always space for your mess
Tears absorbed by rumpled bedsheets
Eyes framed by the dark circles
Only a life lived heart-first
Can bring to bear

Questioning eyes searching dark nights
For answers
That they know
Won't come --

At least not in the convenient
Sound-bite form
That would be most preferred.

There is always space for the word,
As much as its single syllable
Chokes you with guilt

You need not try
To be a pillar
For the world

Pillars stand alone in the end
Cold and grey

Welcome the heaving sobs
That threaten to steal your breath
The deep need
For something indescribable

It's all messy
You, me, her, them
And we'll stumble along

Ankati Day