questioning

poem for an old friend

Do you know
why I fight, he asked, softly
and i shook my head no.
Because for all my blustering,
I never knew. He whispered
I fight to lose.
…

To lose all sense of what is right and what is wrong.
and what is happening,
I fight to lose myself in a rage so I can see myself for who I am.
I looked askance, thoughts racing.
Confusion, then understanding, working its way through my face as I held him to my chest. we cried then.
In a way that I had never cried and will never cry again.
He cried for me and i cried for him and we cried for all those who stare longingly into the night. hoping for a salvation that will never come.
And we stared at the coliseum of dreams and it stared back at us and
we smiled then.
He smiled for him and I smiled for me
and we smiled for all those who mourned the loss of the one who cried for them.
It was then when I found out why I fought.
And when he brushed the hair out of my eyes and asked me Why do you fight?
I just rested my head on his shoulder and he understood
And I understand
And here I stand
And so I fight.