Forgetting How To Cry
A sadness fell over me when I forgot how to cry,
a bird with clipped wings watching the sky.
The yearning for a tear to fall from my eye.
If only just one.
A cannonball falling, if but gracefully,
Release of a torrent, if only by a drip.
How I yearn for it to fill and overwhelm me,
weaken my knees and choke me.
So forgive me when I get angry.
Frustrated. Bitter. Distant.
I just wanna’ remember how to cry.
-by Hans Lee
It was the last conversation we were to have for a while. Like we had done many times before, I brought the finest $10 bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon while she made dinner. It was a ritual too customary to ignore because for friends who saw each other so infrequently, we needed a routine to bring familiarity.