THE DRIEST TEAR

The driest tear
that will not come. .

It is the one
that needs most
the heart
and eye to clear,
to wash and mend
the vital part
where it comes from. . .

Do not fear
when the flow
moves finally near–
just let it go,
and to the murmured movement
thus succumb.

The grip
for a wee bit
goes limp,

the lasting soul
begins to hum.

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This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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