Time to Cry

My thoughts betray me.
Much silence
Lends to sorrow
And sorrow
Seeks something
To dull the blade
To reduce my wails
To whimpers.

Where is comfort?

My ears fill with noise
The static of life
Which diverts pain.
But its value is fleeting.
Pain from within
May be delayed
But never denied.

There must be time to cry.

So I give myself to silence
That silence might produce
A weight of sorrow
That sorrow fulfilled
Might work within
The peculiar satisfaction
That I have not slighted
The crying pain
Which knows my frame
And calls name.