~

his heart’s response,
its waterfall;
cascade tumbling,
cleanses all
embattled,
dusty trenches,
these heart-wrenched,
rusty, dried-out ends;
a faucet opened,
floodgates broken,
spillway leading
to relief;
channel of
redemption,
overcomes his
apprehension,
and dares to bare
his heart’s
intention;
betrays the truth
that lies beneath,
yes, his bottled tears
need this release,
and his longing,
thirsty soul
it finally quenches.

~

*post script.


if a man weeps in the darkness does anyone hear?  does his culture drive that man to hide his inner fears?  is he emasculated by his tears?  do they infer his weakness, or do they simply reveal his humanity, his identity that is neither culture nor age defined, his propensity to feel all that it is to be human... if they would but let him?  perhaps i am just one of the fortunate ones; who employs a blend of caring, understanding friends and the rest-who-don’t-be-******!  what is the price to be paid for those who are not as lucky as i?