Some Men and Sorrow

We all hold the weight of sorrow within us,

A secret charm sewed in our hearts, intimate as blood and letters.
Men sometimes hurt others in vain attempts to overcome sadness,
Shooting arrows and darts in every direction to avoid being shot.

Physical pain is nothing for some men of integrity and valor,

Their bodies could crumple from the load of their work upon them
And they will bear the burden with grins and gritted teeth.
Though men may accept the unavoidable grief of bodily pain,
They cannot cope with the trauma of mental strife.

Men hide from their fears, playing childhood games of tag

Running through the shadowed corners of their minds,
Their secret anxieties stalk them in dreams and rest.

Men bend and fold when their thoughts are stacked with choices and consequences.
Their shallow minds of smoky card tables and smooth, round hills of skin,
Bitter alcohol and the crash and din of televised football games,
The sport of a chase and the glory of victories are too narrow
To be widened by the birth of a self awareness, an admitted mistake,
A confession of the raging flood of intimate feelings or a well-deserved apology.

Men are like animals, babies, the weather –

Unpredictable, prisoners of their very natures, unable to overcome
The puzzling effects of a conscience or thought of someone else’s plight.

12/19/01