He Cried (Story)
by Kei Patrick | June 4, 2019
I always have more to say to my friend
when I’m not talking to him.
He’s been having a really hard time.
Today was a special case,
an Essex blizzard
scuffing muddy patches up hillsides.
Today he hid his face in my side
so he could cry:
a quiet upheaval in the thick snow.
He pressed his face against me
and I told him ohh.
I told him I know…
aw,
I told him yeah,
mmm…
and he cried.
So I tried Crying is good for you, chemically
and he said he knew that,
and then I felt useless.
What came to mind
were all the least helpful
things I’ve been told whilst crying.
They amount to saying It’s OK to cry,
and I know.
I’ve heard it before,
and it’s true
but that doesn’t help you to do it.
It is late to be teaching that lesson
To somebody trying to swallow his sobs.
That was the best I come up with: It’s OK to cry…
But I wanted words to cry with him.
How do you help someone let go?
The few times I’ve been able to really sob,
I was trying to explain myself to someone sympathetic;
I was trying to speak and make myself understood,
and the tears snuck up on me.
He leaned against me and my arm was around him.
Out there, loitering in the cold wind,
my armpit turned out to be the warmest place around.
So we stayed that way a long time,
him crying, me holding him.
Seemed like we were rebelling.
I felt defiant
at the blowing snow around us, at anyone
who might be standing in the blizzard, peering
and disapproving.
On a snow day things are different. Special conditions.
The struggle is closer to home and
rules relax. It took that low visibility
for my friend to cry. Blizzard conditions.
He’s been having a really hard time.
Poem by Kei Patrick. Illustration by Léa Gayer de Mena.