Men
Crying
I.
A man cried in front of strangers.
He read words of praise for a friend:
The founder of this, the leader
of that, the clapper of our bells,
the fiery breath of our movement -
The words became fluent with tears,
then broke again and again,
a late season hurricane.
II.
Watching men cry is unpleasant.
They cry like broken glass. Not
the silent tearing of an eye,
but gasps, failed attempts
to say a word or two. Men cry
terribly and should be restricted
to special sheds where we can
howl like the dogs we are.
III.
A man in mourning cried for himself;
the thin paper of his dreams burned
like a history book. He cried for
lost mother, homeland in flames,
he cried the bitter tears of abandonment,
and could not remember why. His full
belly craved respect, the worms never
gave him peace. He mourned the man
whose dreams he borrowed and now buried.
He cried for his friend, for innocence.
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