Why Do You Cry, Mirror At Narita? Poem by Elmer Sayre

Is it that you cannot bear to

hear the heartbeats of Elena so young,

so pretty, so dear, waiting for the yakuza,

that you cry?

Or is it that you cannot bear to see ravaged Mom

combing her lifeless hair waiting for the ride home,

that you cry?

I cannot understand,

for what is there in crying

when home is a terrifying dream,

when home is want so mind-boggling,

when home is an endless scream?