but that's me

sorrow being holy ground,
i say
nothing to the woman crying
curled
onto a bench
in the sunlit park.
shadows
not reaching her
in the heat.
I think it would be better
to cry
somewhere else
I want to tell her.
maybe over there
where it's cooler, by
the water,
on the rocks,
under the shade of trees,
a place
where no one would notice.
but that's me.