If tears could talk as gentle fall
they gather all, in misty path that’s made.
On flushed cheeks like warm ‘soft nymph of sadness’
huge droplets fill sad eyes
as cleansing in their wake
this pain so deeply felt.
Whirlpools of feelings
from damaged heart and soul.
A loss that cannot be repaired or replaced,
these tears that bring clemency to my needs.
Rinsing glistening lashes, streaky as torrent falls,
a quiet private heart-rending washing
that completes to soothe.
Until futurity
this sacrament of release will return,
giving focus and a little courage.
If tears could talk…
their wordless perpetual out-pour
would denounce all pain.
If tears could talk…
This poem is dedicated to Dianne West who lost her beloved husband Vern, after a courageous battle with Multiple Myeloma in September 2010.
All Rights Reserved.