Tragic

Life is tragic. That is the only thing we can assume true and factual.

 

I think of women especially with their sad, sad lives. Strong and weak women alike fall to their knees at night with glistening tears welling in their eyes. They look to the sky and see themselves floating, as empty and sorrowful as the moon; the same expression night after night.

 

With their heads lifted, hands bracing the floor, they pray to forget so they don’t wake remembering what numbs them; the tragedies of their lives.

 

Men can embrace their women, holding tight to their supple, fragile bodies, not understanding because their lives are not experienced the same. Men think openly of their losses for a moment then close the door to the numbing thoughts; they are not stronger, only more efficient.

 

By nature they absorb what drains their women; tragedy is never lost.

 

That is how we live. Holding and releasing for our sanity. What sad lives we leave.