No Art No Love No Tears

I call life a water tank.
It continuously leaks from every little corner:
my niece’s love,
my mother’s art,
my father’s tears when his father passed away.
I’m clueless, no one has taught me how to put duct tapes to right places,
how to stop things from overflowing,
how not to overflow myself.
These tiny water drops are calling me to join their reckless dance,
but I’m used to floating between the tides.
It does not alarm me anymore,
the aches:
knowing your first love already had theirs,
how little it matters if there’s an outer space,
how home is not a person and sometimes-
not even a place.
I call life a water tank,
my presence – running from the heaviness of it being motionless:
It stands still
I pass by
I ignore it.
And for my fragility
whatever offerings this world might have,
I’ll protect my flaws as if they’re only thing I don’t have to mend.
With these colorless springs I could live off another thousand years,
If I get to neglect all this love,
the art
and the tears.

Previously published by Ariel Publishing.


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