At The Wall
Tears that do not
fall
do not fall
but cling
to lashes
defying gravity
threatening to slide down aching cheeks
denying gravity but not grief.
Standing, mirrored,
copied in endless blackness
at the Wall
shimmering
but blurred
with encrypted images,
letters into names
reflections moving
against the backdrop
of lives ended too soon.
Tears that do not
fall
do not fall
onto the earth
from which the
black growth erupts
Moisture withheld
no salty nourishment
for the silent grasses
mourning the dead.
Tears that do not
fall
do not fall
Welling and curling
up into the eyes saved,
recycled tears
again they come,
unbidden,
uninvited
the same tears
held back before
with head high
and tilted back,
again they come
familiar,
dreaded.
Tears that do not
fall
do not fall
since that one day
when tears
rolled relentlessly
down and never stopped.
Copyright (c) 1996 Debra S. Simko