The angels collect the tears of everyone who cries each day, giving every droplet to God. God puts the tears into a jar and closes the lid, watching to know the pain. Mothers watch their children slowly starve to death. Elders ruminate on their regrets. A boy scrapes his knee on the sidewalk. A rejected love and love over felt. God shakes the jar, loosens the lid, and somewhere it rains.
(Author’s note: What a bunch of boo-hoo drivel. What are you, 13? I’ve found more moving works on the walls of bathroom stalls)
Here is a helping of poems for this week’s Poetry Potluck. http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com. Tell me what you really think, will get around to changing “freaking’ on my last Potluck offering and answering everyone too!
An Ambidextrous Life
My interests are like my hands, ambidextrous;
And I have never met anyone else ambidextrous.
I take up my pen with my left hand,
but use my scissors with the right.
I think it’s day but secretly wonder if it might be night.