Sigh

No one writes the story
Unless they lived it, heart, soul,
Because it hurts too much
To tell if you have not reached
The other side where you
May smile through the tears
Tracking grooves on your face,
Recognizing you survived all
The breakage taking place.

We are more powerful than we
Credit ourselves ever being,
We have made it swimming
Through oceans, tromping in mire,
Covered in the ordure of what
We should never have touched.

Still, we chide ourselves for
Not having perfection enough
To avoid what captures our
Attention like neon strobes
Accompanying sirens on
Some sizzling Summer night.
When danger walks bareheaded
Weapons openly displayed;
Ah, love is a war we fight
Outside our minds, inside
Our hearts, suffering silence
Screaming sudden shuddering
Delight.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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