Tears for the Desolate Places

My tears are attracted

to the desolate places

of the land and heart;

to the barren, dried out

soil of the earth and mind.

My tears run down

the broken glass

hanging lifelessly

from the pane

of the window of

time and remembrance.

Incidents

unattached

to the glazing of

organized thought,

and traditions

not held by full-

by the memory

have been allowed

to escape

its confined view.

These windows

can no longer

hold back all

they have harbored

deep within.

These eyes

can no longer

keep my tears

from seeking union

with the desolate and

distant places

hungering for their

affection and warmth.