Layer by layer the wailing wall still weeps leaks life still happy to receive prayers to gods who no longer reside no longer invest in their attempt to subdue a fierce people. And the river offers up her long laughter below.
Prompted by a rock wall at Colden Clough, Lumb Bank, nr Heptonstall, West Yorkshire, UK, former residence of Ted Hughes.
. There is poetry in the light Of the afterwards - The perfect glow When ugly scars are blurred And words Reach new locution Despite our dissolution You rest your head on my lap and weep until your tears become our kisses and our solace wet with promise Of kinder years.
the rains came in short, but lovely, bursts clouds, that had been only skyward visitors, decided to weep welcome, welcome rain from high up come and fill our flowers cup leave some moisture for us to keep leave it while the desert sleeps let it soak into the ground giving up lifes nector, with nary a sound the rains came in short, but lovely bursts....
I looked back at the rows of stone, with the many carved names. I wonder if they had anyone to cry for their loss. Did anyone weep for their death, or were they like me? again, my thoughts scoffed at myself. No one will ever be like me. I lifted the gun to my trembling head. In a way, it was calming… I was now stronger than my thoughts, holding a power it never had. Farewell miserable world, you’ve given me my pain and all of my sorrow. But I've one last request. Please, cry for me.
This poem was written in response to my feelings of grief surrounding the global pandemic. It was April, and my Peace Lily had bloomed for the first time in a few months, and I just remember feeling so comforted by the hope of new life by this bloom. I thought, what beauty to decide to bloom in the middle of a pandemic, perhaps just to bring comfort and weep with us too.