The Tears

In the morning I stepped out upon a snow of tears. I looked up at the sky to see the clouds dropping their share of melancholy for Mary, Martha and Margaret and for those left behind by their runaway husbands. At noon, still walking, I turned at the noise from a nearby window, a battered wife weeping the awnings of infidelity tears hidden behind a wall. Tears for all the women that husbands no longer cherish, who look out the window Janet, Julian and Judith let them stand for others who hurt in silence. At night I dreamed of all the women slapped shoved and thrown out like unwanted items hurled overboard Amina, Amaka and Anthonia names that reap rivers of regrets names that answer to the call of hope names that smile to hide the pain and tears that run through green veins of our mothers and sisters. Tears flowing like dams tears huddled up in dim caves tears in the tiny eyes of a rose. For no matter where I look, there`s a woman shedding tears somewhere in the dark.