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.
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