Middle Aged Woman Cries Alone In Her House
from Out With Lanterns, a daily poetry practice
That's today’s headline because twice today, I stopped and wept. For the first weeping, I stood at the threshold of my office. Does it matter why I cried? Life and its constant changes and endings calls for intermittent breakdowns, does it not? For the second weeping, I sat on the staircase and put my head in my hands. Neither cry took long–just small bursts of grief-love. That’s what it feels like this summer–noticing so acutely that nothing lasts, that life is so beautiful, and even with all the love and luck, it’s all only temporary, and sometimes crying about it helps.
I wish I could cry. Somehow, my tears have vanished at a time when there is so much to cry about. Loved your poem.