The Land of Tears


“It is such a mysterious place, the land of tears.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

The land of tears is where I dwell now
the salt waters that keep me buoyant
floating in sorrow and in secret
carried along on a raft made of
tears too precious too painful to let fall
the ones shed behind closed doors
and choked down in a crowd
my dreams are full of teardrops misting like rain
with the accepting ground drinking them in
releasing them back in fresh greenness
but as I wake I feel my face shriveling
becoming more bone and less round flesh
drying out like a grape left on the vine
as the drought within me sweeps across the cages
where my hurting heart once wept
and rattles now desiccated
The bard may speak of sirens tears and augmenting the morning dew
and all the crowds will sigh in delight
yet for me the land of tears remains a mystery
a realm unreachable
there is nothing that touches me anymore
My silence is merely a disguise as my voice trembles with the weight of them
under this rising river of unshed tears








About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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