I might cry
when the words become jumbled memories
nostalgia pouring out of the depths of my mind and unfolding on a blinding-white computer screen
and I'll get ahead of myself, later deleting lines of words that are suddenly blurry
even though I still have my contacts in.
(It'll take me a second to realize it's from tears.)
And so I'll question them, the tears that fall down my cheeks, salt like the ocean
and land on my keyboard, little raindrops
that I'll brush away as if they never existed
not yet quite sure if they were of sadness or joy.
Yet I'll still try to write this poem
without sinking so far into the depths of memory
that I can't type another line
and my computer screen will be empty where words once thrived
just like it's been so many times before
this poem forgotten
like a wave upon the sea
I will not forget this poem
I will carry on despite the tears threatening already at the backs of my eyes
when I remember all those stolen moments last summer, laughter amid green trees
those four precious weeks, my memory both ablur and in sharp focus
when I think of the sound of their voices,
the feel of their hugs
before we all had to leave.
I am still in denial about this but
in only twenty-six days I will be back there
in the place I love the most
the place I love so strongly I sometimes hate it
the place I always can and never can predict.
(Depends on how you look at it.)
All I can count on is feeling that
/ rush /
of so many people such a small place such a short time
trying to do everything, be everything
as summer days pass away, set to rest
under a blanket of glimmering stars.
When it's all over,
I might cry
because saying goodbye has never been easy for me
and my love of this place can be too much to carry,
I can crack underneath the weight of it once I'm home.
But I will try not to view this as shameful
because I now know that tears can relieve pain
and they're truly a beautiful thing, if you just
look at them