i do not weep
i must be weird
for i do not know
how to cry
when my loved ones
died
i buried them &
some have to cry
for me
to satisfy
our tradition
people who notice this
talk
and they talk behind
my back
i pinch my cheek
and hurt my eyes
there are no more tears
the mirror
speaks
i must be that boy
who had forgotten how to cry
i could be that man
who can never cry
for what use is crying?
will it save papa from
dying?
will it heal a
bleeding heart?
will it change my
predicament?
will it make flowers
grow?
will it turn these stones
into bread?
will it save me from
falling?
will it pacify a storm
will it still the
whirlpools of my
mind?
i have no one to cry for
i am not that selfish to cry for my own self
i am not a masochist
i have no pity for my own misfortune
i do not blame myself for all my failures
i don't have a place to let my tears fall
there is simply no time for it
anymore....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem