Weeping Hearts I
Jan 4, 2024
My body exhumes fluids of which it is known that I am not a stranger to much sweat.
But these sweats do not capture the fractures that are bottled up within my soul.
My eyelids know no rest, for continuously, they are often wet.
All testifying to the vacuums that I have considered in my heart.
Perforated, not with holes but much sadness.
I have been a man of many sorrows.
My mind has known nothing but woes.
I’ve been like a man walking on hot coals.
Only that this is not a journey for my feet, but a distance that I walk in my soul.
I fetch consistently, not from a well or a river but from the very liquid that flows from my eyeballs.
I have cried so hard, that these liquids can now fill up many bowls.
