My teardrops
in all their glory
contain a
world of salty purity.
Bathing a
little pice of the earth in my unedited soul.
They are a
cry to the powers beyond the sky,
of thanks or
pain or a desperate plea to the heavens.
They come
from the wellspring of life, the place where
spirit and
humanity meet
and there a
war is raged.
A release of
emotion, where sometimes letting the world
have it instead of keeping it
is a refreshing secret.
It’s
comforting to know that I must not keep forever those colors
glowing so
brightly I cannot hold them
but by
releasing them, let them live.
They live
while I live,
Making room
for deeper and more vibrant hues.
Winter/Spring 2013
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