Untitled (Extended)

Untitled (Extended)

By Jen Zeni

She weeps wordlessly

Sitting without moving on the cold stone by the river, sighing with the trees that blow

back and forth in the strong breeze and tickle her cheek with their leaves

And I laugh loudly

I sing lighthearted songs

Skipping softly through the grass as if floating on a cloud that carries me above all the

rage, all the emotions that pulse through her, so that I can not feel them at all

And she weeps wordlessly

She sits with her knees tucked up to her chest

As if they could protect her from something, keep her safe from a danger I can not see

but which I know her knees would serve as a poor shield against

And I laugh loudly

I talk to them all

In a loud voice that carries through the halls and bounces joyfully off the ceilings

to be echoed in the laughter of the others standing around me

As she weeps wordlessly

She lets everything pour out

Like water pouring from a blue willow patterned china pitcher with a chip on the handle

into a juice glass made in Italy, through which you can see all the anger and hate

And I laugh loudly

She lets the world crumble around her and just sits still as it falls in tiny splinters which

get tangled in her hair and on her eyelashes

But I pretend it is still all as it was and I keep moving, never resting for long enough to

collect dust, not letting my eyes linger on any one spot for long enough to really

see it

And She weeps wordlessly

While I laugh loudly