can't help the weeping

 ~~~~~

April feels centuries past,

it hath departed from me

and left me sad

and wanting. 

I am not as I once was,

what I may have been,

what I may have liked,

or hated.

It’s not the same

and some its for joy

and some for sorrow. 

I wasn’t made for this life,

if I had to guess.

But I didn’t make me 

so maybe I don’t get a say,

maybe I was

even though I don’t feel it

I’m too soft

feeble, fallible 

too easy hurt and bruised,

I use too many bandaids. 

How I got to be here 

I do not know,

its understanding escapes me

and I can’t help the weeping

The longing for trees,

for the ocean,

for my companions 

I left behind

whom I abandoned 

I am sorry 

I did not choose this

and yet I did (make a lier of myself)

and I can’t help the weeping. 

It’s not how it ought to be

not how I expected 

or intended 

and I can’t help the weeping. 

April is gone and dead

till next turn about the sun,

and I am not okay

not okay at all

and I wish for home

A home I’ve not known

and may not ever see

but should He stay with me

I shall stay to Him

and then

only then

might I find some hope

some love and solace. 

The wind has come knocking

and I have answered 

for better or worse

the storm is here

and raging 

we will not be the same

won’t walk away from this one,

perhaps dance.