The Sound Of A Teardrop
A Poem

How to detect it Is the ear the right instrument Or is something more sensitive required
I can feel the moisture As it trickles out of my orbs
Looking in the mirror It’s passage can be viewed and tracked
So touch and sight can be engaged In the pursuit of this personal messenger This delicate but powerfilled tear
But there is so much more to the tale it tells What gave rise to its genesis Perhaps by dwelling a moment on this one’s creation Some weight Some sound can be attributed to it
A child of ours is severely disabled It has been part of him for so long That at times a numb outer shell Protects me from the pain
But inevitably the reality bursts through my outer dams His sorrow becomes mine With an intensity that obscures everything else His suffering threatens to overwhelm me That such a good person must endure such darkness My very belief in Her love is shaken
Thus were this tear and its companions born There is a sound to it after all It is the echo of my heart breaking once again Of hope being stifled A parent should be able to keep their child from such a fate Yet I remain powerless
The tears help me My son has not given up hope So how can I There are good moments When laughter is shared Connections are stronger Above all my son is more precious to me now Than when he was just an innocent toddler He will never be taken for granted He helps fill my life Pain is a small price to pay
When I started this, it was only going to be a haiku. But I got lost along the way, and the above is the result.




