The Ache in My Throat

I try to squeeze my mind
like pulp from a dying fruit

Nothing comes

But the tears—
they come

and the throat—
it hurts
like I swallowed
a scream
made of centuries.

Is it all from the tears?
Is it pain?
I don’t know.

Maybe it’s the ghost
of a heartbreak
years ago—

When I was offered a love
as good as sunlight—
and I touched
the sun.

My days were golden.
But somewhere, I knew—
the sun was fading.

That’s what I remember.
Maybe.
Maybe not.

Now
I don’t even know
what warmth felt like.
What difference
meant.

And I wonder:
Is this loss
so terrible?

They don’t tell us about life—
not life.
Not the raw one.
The one with
two directions.

Not the staged one:
Success
Joy
Certainty
Light

But the real one:
Confusion
Ache
Silence
Ruin
Wonder

I’m in the other wave now.
The lost current.
The hollow part.

I don’t know how long
this ache will stay lodged
in the doors of my throat—

But I know
I signed for this.

I wanted to feel.
To feel.

I asked to ache.
I said yes.
To sorrow,
to fire,
to becoming
the echo
of my ancestors’ grief.

When I go—
I want to say:
I felt it.
I was there.

The ache
was a star
imploding
inside my windpipe.

Was it karma?
Maybe.

Maybe I was chosen
to write it out
drop by drop—
let the lingering ache
begin to vanish
in rhythm.

In my family
we fed each other
hurt.

Passed it
like bread.

I watched them as a child—
those gods and ghosts—
and learned
that love
can wound,
and wounds
can love.

I am tired.
Tired of cycles
that sing
the same old bloodsong.

So I chose distance.
I chose
peace.

But when I try to name
what I feel—
my tears drop.

And my throat
remembers
everything
I can’t.

So tell me—
What’s the worst you’ve seen?

When will the wheel
break
or turn
or burn?

Sometimes
I hear a song—
a bright one.

And my heart
pounds.
A smile and a tear
arrive together
like twin spirits.

Who am I kidding?

I love love.
I love.

I fall in love
with the air
between notes.
With a melody
carving light
through the ache.

So tell me again:
What’s the worst?

Was it joy
or was it pain?

I don’t know.
I let my tears answer
in my place.

Until grace
opens its hands
and gives me
clarity.