The Aching

there is an aching that buries itself deep within my soul 

it stirs me awake when i see an elderly woman struggling to carry 

her basket at the laundromat 

she drops an old t-shirt and then mumbles insults to herself

to be human is to condemn oneself over a moment of weakness 

instead of praising the strength that it took to carry that load 

in the first place

there is an aching that buries itself deep within my soul 

it surfaces when i remember that my miraculously large family 

no longer finds every holiday an excuse to assemble 

instead 

sees potential war zones for political debates and decade-long 

hostilities 

to be human is to forget the miracle of my grandparent's love

coursing through so many bloodstreams 

there is an aching that buries itself deep within my soul

it drops deep into my stomach when i hear his tune echo through 

a strangers laughter 

hear the songs that once bonded us 

skip the songs that once bonded us 

to be human is to accept that you didn't end up with what you 

thought you wanted

this aching 

refuses rest

refuses to speak

not spoken among daylight 

but consumes the dead of night 

to be human is to reject aid 

is to forget that you need help too 

there is an aching that rattles my jaw 

shaving my teeth thin 

when i remember anyone that i have lost 

is someone i have loved 

still love 

and still think about

to be human is to hold a grudge 

to hate that grudge 

how it feels within your grasp 

to instead desire your fingers intertwining with those 

you loved 

still love

and still think about 

there is an aching that finds me in solitude 

it reminds me that this world is shared 

that we are not the only ones existing 

reminds me that if we just took a moment 

to understand another soul's perspective 

then

maybe… just maybe

we would not 

scoff at their bursting anger 

wouldn't curse them in traffic

wouldn't mark their silent weeks as an act of hate 

perhaps we wouldn't make their suffering about us

maybe… just maybe 

we would see where the anger began 

understand that perhaps something is blocking their path

acknowledge that often, silence is the only language that speaks

when there is no energy to produce sound from bloody lips 

there is an aching

and its first appearance happened when my little eyes saw their 

first autumn tree 

as the world photographed it

marveled by extravagant beauty 

i watched its leaves fall

watched them brown and crumble 

i grieved them all 

it was then that i learned 

there is beauty in dying, beauty in having lived at all 

there is an aching 

it came again at the end of winter 

as my first snowman collapsed under the sun 

and his body bled into the earth 

so she could replenish herself 

there is beauty in sacrificing one's life for another 

there is an aching 

it surfaced with every insect 

crushed beneath sneakers 

it surfaced when

a little blue robin egg slips to its end

from my brother's sweaty hands in the spring of ‘08 

there is beauty in your life, no matter how small

there is an aching 

it came again when i was still young 

the summer news rang of a

tornado warning 

i unlaced all of my sneakers 

gathered my stuffed animals 

tied them together then tied them to me 

if the winds swept us away at least we wouldn’t be alone

there is beauty in giving those without a pulse their very own heartbeat 

there is an aching 

it greeted me each year 

through strangers 

through lovers 

through critters 

through the leaves in the fall 

this aching began by giving everything without a pulse

their very own 

this aching continued by loving everything

with a heartbeat 

this aching

my mother tells me

is God's gift to me

this aching 

i tell her  

is the reason i can barely breathe 

to be human is not to know how to exist with this all

to be human is to have an aching known as

empathy