Conclude Poem by JAY WALK

Remind me to listen,
in groves of mangoes raw,
to not mistake leaves that glisten
as fiendish swords drawn.

It's spring and yet I'm here,
far from the madding crowd
of ones considered dear
whom I now disavowed.

I wasn't raised to be angry
but I have lost the way I grieve.
All words right there, dangling,
blocked by the sieve.

And now I cannot put my love
into anything else.
I can only attempt to shove
and pray the ice melts.

But I cannot seem to give up
for I promised myself hope.
It is, after all, one broken cup,
and I shall soon find ways to cope

So remind me that distress
is the mere froth of waves
that against the cliff caress
and temporarily fill caves.

Remind me to listen,
as seasons turn around
to learn from leaves that glisten-
Grief is a flimsy crown.