Friday, March 11, 2011

a small story about tears

I can't believe I'm sitting here writing
after posting the blog last night...
I lived that blog for a week
then wrote it for another...

I was exhausted...
though not enough to sleep properly...
but that's not what I want to write about
at this moment...

This afternoon I got the dearest email
from my friend Joni...
and I began to cry...
again...

I have said before
that I have cried enough tears
recently
to make a sauce for my sorrow...

Suddenly it occurred to me
that I could begin freezing
that sauce like I do my soup
or spaghetti sauce
and save myself some time...

I'm being naughty now...
but that thought began to spin,
dance off into the daylight
until a myriad of images about tears
filled my poet's head...

Sometimes the tears I have cried
are as endless as raindrops...
delicate crystals mined
from my heart...
I see myself silently
wrapping them around my throat
to wear like any warrior
might wear his medals
earned in battle

Then there are those other tears
my tears of stone
each one tapping my cheek
as it falls
so I won't forget that it rested there...

Before I end,
as I thought about tears,
I remembered a conversation
Ethan and I had not too long ago...

Ethan and I were hanging out
and he asked me one of those questions
the kind that could be serious or silly
or both...

just the typical what if, little kid,
what am I going to answer question...

"Gramma what would you do if something happened to me?"

I would cry feel out of my mouth
without a thought...

"Even if it wasn't serious?"

Then maybe I'd cry just a little...
as I'm wondering where he's going with this...
or maybe we're done...

"If it was serious then you would really really cry alot?"

I decide that I'm going to turn the tables on him...

If something serious happened to you
I would cry so much
no one could stop me...

"Not even Hempa?"
He looks amazed,
maybe shocked...

Not even Hempa,
not the doctor,
not a plumber,
I reply...

Then he cracks up...

"Gramma,  a plummer?  you're a person..."

I would being crying so much
I tell him,
that everyone would think
I was a faucet!

Now we're both cracking up!

In fact, Hempa would probably call 100 plumbers...
1000 plumbers, he adds,
or a million...
he likes where this is going...

But nothing they did would work I say...

"That's because you love me too much, Gramma,"
Ethan says laughing...

How come you're so smart I ask...

No comments:

Post a Comment