Just Like Pagliacci Did--A New Poem

I am crying private tears--
apparently,
a man is not supposed to cry in public,
'it's not manly',
they say;
well, I say,
my tears are more real
than anything you can ever imagine;

my tears,
are tiny pieces of my soul,
yearning to break free,
from inflicted damage
and emotional turmoil;

responses to
being told,
a life with me
is not worth living;

they're all I have to offer
to express spiritual pain,
because uncontrolled rage
is also not acceptable
in polite society;
and laughter,
when it does come,
only masks it for a time--
like a clown
who thought he knew
what love was,
and found it more elusive
than the face of God.

So,
I will cry my tears
as they come,
and I will write my words
because that is what I do,
knowing that I'm as much a man
as any,
and that love
is an unwinnable game,
best left to those
who can stay in it
or are allowed to;
but for me,
I'm drawing up the bridge
surrounding my heart,
buttressing the fortress,
so that I can face
the inevitably rising
sun
in guarded peace.

© 2012 Joseph Powell