Would You Cry with Me?

Would You Cry with Me?

(“He helps us in all our troubles, so that we are able to help others who have all kinds of troubles, using the same help that we ourselves have received from God.” 2 Corinthians 1:4)

Would you cry with me even
when
I could not tell you why
the days roll into one another like
boulders left behind by an ancient glacier
and a mind frozen by in time?

Would you bring me cake?
Would you buy me a day on the beach?
Would you give me your island in the sun
and stay as long as I needed
to hear someone’s tears besides my own?

I do not mean to bother you,
your life is no different than mine. The air
between us is space or it is connection.
But the fences have divided us into sections
and served us up separately.

I would rather sit with an ailing friend,
play with the neighbor dogs and laugh with the children.
And I can, a few minutes at a time;
but mostly I sit inside wondering
how to find a river in the desert,
a place to visit where it does not matter
that I speak less often than I used to.

Last night I dreamed I was going on a trip with
my two sons,
but we never finished packing. We could not find
enough socks.
And that is how all my dreams end,
anticipating a life that looks more like a mirage.

Your hand on my shoulder,
your loaf of fresh-baked bread,
your song when I cannot find my own,
your heart traded for my fainting;

I hate debating. I need only eyes that
tear up
because mine do too.