Crickets

Whatever emotions you think are gone, for whichever reason —

They’re not gone;

Even the nightly song of crickets 

Makes its encore at dawn 

As well as its appearance throughout the day

With other artists who set the stage

And the beautiful tumult that permeates — 

In whatever form it may take

The crickets are restless —

Enduring,

Like thoughts and memories we think to have bottled away,

Or those from long ago on a beloved day

We carry them with us in some way

Whether it be their echoes singing a tune in our ears

And the actions, like puppets played by strings we take

But we must cut these strings — 

Through the tension of hiding our love and our woes; 

Like a Jack crammed in a Box — 

Only when you trap your emotions are you a fool,

As they are meant to be given to the world and let go

Like a shark in a fishbowl, 

We do not belong in a prison

Like a caged dove taking flight 

We must not explode, but flow freely

There are no strings on me —

What about you?