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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476672" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>If I Could Cry Again</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">If I could cry again, as once I cried for you, if <br>	I could saturate this dark fist of a heart that closed up <br>		and hardened from that flower so long ago, trying <br>to hang on to the jewel, the pearl, the star, the eye of the issue; <br>	if I could turn this stone rose freaked with harsh minerals, <br>		back into that night you drew the blade of the moon <br>across the wrist of the bridge you were standing on, waiting <br>	it seemed your whole lifetime, trembling <br>		like a dropp of shadow-flavoured water <br>from the tip of a spear of stargrass<br>	for the wind to shake you loose from your agony, <br>		a lost earring, I could put out this root-fire <br>that runs underground from cedar to cedar, person to person, <br>	consuming its way without flame <br>		through the long valley of the sorrows and years<br>where I buried you like a storm that had swallowed the hot sword<br>	of its own lightning; I could affirm the black ash <br>		of that night that has gone on dying in me ever since, <br>I could green it with daylilies and vetch<br>	and the frog splash of lachrymose junipers beginning to rain. <br>		I could stop meaning what I say when I say <br>crueller solitudes are born of the pain that’s endured<br>	like a grave with no eyelid staring into the sun<br>		waiting for eclipses to fall out of the light <br>like coins from a one-armed bandit<br>	that gashed the vein of its motherlode<br>		to die in a windfall of poppies, a junkie of luck, <br>than the strange loneliness of the losers <br>	who cash their winnings in, and bleed to death. <br>		I could mean something else other than heroin, <br>I could mean a new religion, a successful skin graft<br>	of happier metaphors and cooler tattoos, <br>		brighter constellations than the needle tracks <br>that loaded the deck of your dark zodiacs<br>	with star-crossed lovers in public washrooms <br>		tying you off with the spinal cord<br>you carried around in your kit. I could stop the bleeding, <br>	I could put the fire out, I could look at your death <br>		square in the eyes<br>and haul in a god to answer it <br>	like you did me that last night<br>		when I asked for signs of life<br>and you quoted maxims to live by from the razor-blade <br>	revealed to you alone on your holy mountain <br>		before you dumped on paradise<br>like a shovel full of dirt, a spoonful of ashes, <br>	an avalanche of hurt. I could open my hand <br>		and fill your absence in <br>with things that begin. I could scrawl <br>	a reason to live on your mirror in lipstick<br>		and marry you in our honeymoon coffin<br>behind closed doors <br>	in a downpour of wedding rings<br>		I stole from the dead. <br>O, baby, my lost one, my fire in the wood, <br>	you could be my candle-holder<br>		 and angel-food for good<br>	if only I could cry again, <br>		as once you knew I could.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476672" data-title="If I Could Cry Again de Patrick White" data-description="If I could cry again, as once I cried for you, if 
	I could saturate this dark fist of a heart that closed up 
		and hardened from that flower so long ago, trying 
to hang on to the jewel, the pearl, the star, the eye of the issue; 
	if I could tu..."></div>
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