Hold wide this frame,
Weeping in silent shame,
Pulling apart what captures the silence
Inside wood and brittle stone.
A canvas, a face for cruelest violence.
Tears hit each blade of grass
With no pause at the hands they pass,
While winter motions the grail –
To unite red with the clear,
The porcelain from eyes
Draining the white –
Towards the spot where the sight
From the sun had let some limited hope
Sink as a ship through the earth.
There were echoes in the skies,
For Heaven could hear these cries –
These unforsaken wails
That brought more sunset than sails,
More darkness than movement
In places where evening pales.
A sip of wine with the moon,
One loss, a reminder until noon –
When Heaven can weep more.
Upon the gradient, a shift towards the shore
Where faces engraved in ivory sand –
Blend with the barren taste.
When Heaven sheds its sunlight
To refresh its curtain –
Here is to what will remain
Embedded in a heart that follows its lane.
2 thoughts on “Poem #1,748 – “Tear-Stains for Ink-Stains” – 7/26/2021”
goosebumps, whenever “winter motions” … I continue to admire your painterly vocabulary.
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Aww. Thanks! 😀
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