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The Sea of Tears, A Walk


by Darryl Price


We've all got an arrow in our side, 
sooner or later. Some are born with 
it. They still manage to live. Others 
die on the spot. What do you want me 
to do? Sometimes it's the thing you love 
most that causes the deepest cut. Would 

you prefer me not to feel it? An 
arrow in our side that keeps us awake 
at night. Night doesn't always mean 
the aching end of day. Maybe it's 
a moth club and nothing more. A flaming 
arrow to remind us we have 

the power to say, yes or no. An 
arrow saying you can't just wait around 
to see who wins. An arrow that 
wants to change the world, with or without 
you. You've heard all the warnings. Yours is 
not the only blood spilled by a freedom
 
fighter. The arrow means it's your 
turn to love or hate. An arrow's lesson, 
so hard to learn. Not always, but 
enough of the time. A sparrow expecting 
to fly. An arrow with your 
name on it. What does it mean? What is

the point? What is your answer? Arrow,
always when you're feeling all alone, 
with a bell tied around its neck. An
arrow, another hole in the world,
needing to be mended, just when things
were starting to make sense of the joke.

There's something primal about this paint-
by-numbers arrow in our side. We
must go on. Arrow, making a nuisance 
of itself. Arrow, where is your 
compassion lasso now? The sun is 
sinking. Pretend you don't see me. Ah.

  
    
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