MORNING

I mourned for you
all of my life

I mourned while
you were not yet dead

For the prison you made for yourself
and in turn, for me

I mourned for the absence of laughter
I mourned for all the tears you shed

For keeping blinders down
that shut the sun out

I mourned for the darkness
you surround yourself with

I mourned for the lock you kept
around your heart

I mourned for the color black
you wore for ten years
because your husband died

I mourned for the countless dances
you refused to dance

For the thousand laughs
you denied your mouth

For the countless touch
you declined to give or take

But if I mourn any longer
I will be just like you

— Abraham Menashe
© 2017