Tears of a Poet

At a bar in North Carolina on a quiet September eve I opened my poem book and put pen to paper, but I could not find a poem. After a moment of thought I decided I needed a poem that explained “Tears of a Poet” this is what flowed from pen to paper:

Tears of a poet:

My life’s story, in ink.

As if a boulder lay on my chest-

Pressure slowly becoming unbearable-

Pushing breath from my throat-

The sensation rising upward -

Into quivering jaw-

Vision blurs-

Eyes fill with tears.

Then, a moment, brief and still-

Tears holding fast as if on a precipice-

Suddenly, those tears of a poet fall-

An orgasmic release of comfort.

Le petit mort - the small death

Those tears of a poet-

Now a blurry reflection looking back from a mirror:

Eyes red-

Cheeks stained.

Throat dry and heart aching.

Those tears of a poet:

Blinding physically and emotionally.

Sadness now a veil.

Those tears of a poet.

A veil?

Those tears of a poet.

A curtain?

Those tears of a poet.

A partition?

Those tears of a poet.

Hiding—what?

Reality?

Perception is a destination.

Tears which may blind wash feelings that bind-

Those tears of a poet-

That small death of emotion,

A rebirth!

Those tears of a poet.

Those tears of a poet.

Those tears of a poet.

Those tears of a poet:

Drops of pain,

Drops of love,

Drops of loss,

Drops of triumph,

Tears of a poet?

My life’s story, in ink