CHAOIN SÉ UISCE A CHINN
(HE WAS IN FLOODS OF TEARS)

The doctor wrote out
a prescription for tears.

I was all out of tears.

"Here!" the Doc said
in his off-hand doctor-ish way.

"Cry these three times a day.
Once in the morning...twice in the afternoon
and all night...alright?"

He looked at me distrustfully.

"Only cry real tears mind...
cutting onions doesn't count!"

Despair gnawed
upon my soul

as if it were a stinking bone
and Despair a wild dog.

Despair growled
slowly showing its teeth

every time I tried to
take it away from him.

"Oh, and....you must only
cry in Irish!"

"Will that cure me?"
I asked without hope.

"No!" he said with a laugh.
Honest at last.

"But it will somehow
help and

what else
are eyes for?"