Internal geology

Tears are like pools I can throw myself into –
sometimes I give myself a push,
sometimes I choose not to.
They can be cleansing  or also just messy.
Most times I can shake myself off
and be fine – the moment passes,
a clearer outlook returns

I’ve never been a person
who almost never cries,
and at some times the water table
is quite close to the surface.
I don’t mind, really. Most of the time
I treat them like weather –
let them blow through and be done.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 22, 2022

Maybe it’s the rain

Sometimes I want to cry
for no reason,
sometimes music that sounds like coming home
will bring the tears –
I don’t know why, a kind of longing, maybe

Sometimes I want to slide back
into a beloved book,  one I’ve read
more than once. Just let
all the important problems
I seek so earnestly to solve
wait until morning,
until a festival of dreams
has washed my mind clean
and I’m ready to start again.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 8, 2022

My Tears

rainy Marcola

My tears are
dark clouds at the end of a storm,
scudding over wind-tossed hills,
the scent of firs carried through the hollows

They call forth wolves, who take up the howl
one after another,
their sweet throats lifting toward the sky

They summon the answering rivers,
rumbling swiftly across the earth,
the encompassing tides, flooding and ebbing

They find their place
in the cushioned atmosphere
in which the entire earth’s comprehensive rush
is one.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 11, 2015