We weep with everything but tears

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Go in good faith

down that charred road

where holy mist

cusps day in feathered glove

the porcelain eyes of hills pay obedience to mauve cloud

trees taller than sound break through

smudges of dream wave in memoriam,  shuttering day

and O

je ne sais pas aimer sans toi. Je ne sais pas comment me passer de toi.

We speak in furled tongues our inner most thoughts

leaving confessionals on mossy rocks and the lay of light rain

full with sleep, the direction lost in tug of war with blackening ice

they slip beneath against hush of snow

covering our tracks with blanched fingers of ice.

We weep with everything but tears.



26 thoughts on “We weep with everything but tears

  1. Wow. This is an amazing poem. I really love it. I can’t explain it, but it creates an atmosphere that I can’t describe but that goes deep into me. Brilkiant.

  2. Ah, yes, there’s the key. I had to ask Google to translate even though not knowing French I sensed grief in that line of one set adrift by loss, set adrift in a kaleidoscopic landscape beautiful and strange, and shifting underfoot.

  3. Yep, I’ve been trying to think of some other music as fitting without success — maybe the Pathétique Symphony of Tchaikovsky? I decided it could only be either French or Russian to get the right emotional tone. The Germans and Italians wouldn’t do.

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