The Grace of Tears

Too many reasons, I confess.
I counted the cost. It’s dark
as Hell,

and         I doubted.

I plotted. I feared
no praise, no lessons gratis
for the lost.

Though blessed, I gambled
in this cold season.
                        I hardened,

in form and formalities.

                I thought
a complex poem might help
me: a villanelle—
                gratuitous stanzas,
              repetition, variation,
           drunk and dramatic,
something to show
                        and tell

a long laborious song,
a skill to buy and sell.

A golden calf,
                        when I
should have known
tears would do
just as well.

I fell.

My heart sank
                and swelled.

All grave vision
        and scope,
but nothing anyone
would recognize
as hope.

{The dVerse prompt that inspired this poem is drunk.}

5 thoughts on “The Grace of Tears

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