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Posts Tagged ‘tears’

 

 

 

It wasn’t until I had passed through security

and found my way into Concourse B

that I found myself sinking into a chair

across from a giant Vienna Beef poster

and began to weep. And once they began,

the tears wouldn’t stop. Nor did I try

to stop them. I had wondered in the ICU

where they were. Had wondered

again at my parents’ home. It was strange

to be so level—not cold, really, and not numb,

but oddly steeled. It was a relief, really,

to sob into my hands. To let grief take over.

To be a maidservant to fragility.

What a gift to be sideswiped with the truth

of our vulnerability. What a blessing

to be baptized in my own helplessness.

Over the loudspeaker, they announced

that a plane was delayed. As if any of us

really know when we’ll depart, when we’ll arrive.

When the tears dried, I stood. Walked

to my gate recalibrated. Called my parents

again because I could. Because I could.

In the window, I smiled at my watery reflection,

how it almost wasn’t there at all.

 

 

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Ode to Tears

 

 

The way day doesn’t fight

the dim before night. The way

shore does not resist the river’s rise.

The way air does not refuse

the beat of wing—that’s the way

I want to let tears come.

Why do I try to force

them from falling?

Not that it works anyway.

Still, this defiance, this struggle

to appear unmoved. And why?

When there are children who laugh

and a sky that blues and stories

that break us and laughter that

seizes us? Why try to pretend

we are not changed by the way

a child loves her mother or

a friend perseveres through cancer

or the way a math teacher reminds us we have

86,400 seconds a day to spend

and if we don’t spend them,

they are gone. It is logical to weep

when met with beauty, it is practical

to let the tears release instead

of all this stupid pretending that

we are too cool or too smart or too

sophisticated to be stirred.

No, better to notice when our toes

are dipped in the grand stream

that unites us all and let that water

move right through our eyes—

better not to try to explain it.

Better to wade in the course of tears

and refuse any boat that would keep us

from touching the water. After all,

we know how to swim. After all,

there are so many reasons

to give in to who we are.

 

 

 

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Longing is the hardest thing to give up.

            —Jim Tipton, “What is This Place I Have Come To?”

 

 

Some days can’t end soon enough,

when the heart, so full of love,

breaks and breaks again—

for beauty, for loss.

And the eyes can’t cry

another damn tear

but they do anyway,

I would rather not

cry anymore, but God,

thank you for letting me

be one of the ones

who can’t help but weep,

whose house is built

too close to the water.

What a gift to feel this horrible ache

like a lantern, golden

and soft, guiding us

deeper and deeper

into our humanness,

leading us closer

to each other, even

though we have never felt

farther away,

and though the stars

are out and at last,

thank god, it is night,

we have never

been more awake.

 

 

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One Story

here, I’m thirsty
said my cheek
to your tear

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I Do Tanka

I wonder
if you remember which wound
you poured it in,
the salt
in these tears

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One

watching you weep
I weep, they are sweet, your tears
in my eyes

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