Why Do You Cry, Mirror at Narita?

Is it that you cannot bear to

hear the heartbeats of Elena so young,

so pretty, so dear, waiting for the yakuza,

that you cry?

Or is it that you cannot bear to see ravaged Mom

combing her lifeless hair waiting for the ride home,

that you cry?

I cannot understand,

for what is there in crying

when home is a terrifying dream,

when home is want so mind-boggling,

when home is an endless scream?

poem by Elmer Sayre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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