“But why does it hurt?”
You ask,
With a solemnity that sends cracks
Fracturing across my soul
Until all the thousands of pieces
Shatter themselves into an explanation
That I hastily try to pick up
Off the floor;

“Because…”
And then,
I don’t know how to go any further
Because that “Because”
Is the start
Of the opening
Of a Pandora’s Box of reasons
That I would rather leave untouched
But I know that curiosity will trump vigilance
Every time
And I’d rather not
that you were alone
when the suffering has to start.
So I draw in another breath
And start again.

“Because…”
But this time,
It is not the reality that stops me
But the unreality,
the absurdity,
the realisation
that this poem
was not written between a
mother and her child
taking the first step into the world,
but between a man and himself
as he begins to realise
how necessary
it is for him to write.

And then the words
Come easy;

“Because it has to”

First, may I say that I like where this poem goes in it's message. In the first stanza, you use some great imagery to show and set the scene. But, afterwards, you are more telling me the story of the poem, rather than showing me. Given the first stanza, I think that the poem could be greatly improved with more engagement of the senses.

D