Breaking Tears

A tear drop
wets
the lashes of
her eye,
until they sweep
her upper cheek,
and slowly
down
it glides.
The tear
pauses
at the corner
of her upper
lip,
tasting the salt -
another teardrop
drops -
falling to
her chin
where it
rests
awhile,
until it
breaks upon
her chest.

To weep
is a release,
a break
in self sustaining
pride.
To cry out -
whether in
anger
or
remorse -
is still
falling
into
you,
becoming,
once more,
your little
child.

Just Me

You are God,
but I am me.
You are God
though I want to be.
You mastermind the workings of the universe.
I stupidly try to interfere.
You count down the months till the doe gives birth,
I hold out to you my self destruction.
You smile and say, "Give it here."
Then, because you can't fix it fast enough,
I grab it back and hold on tight.
Maybe this time God, it's too much.
You smile and say,
"Try as you might, you won't get it right.
I give orders to the morning,
I show the dawn it's place.
By my command the eagle takes off soaring,
and finds a safe place to rest at night.
I've counted every hair on your head,
your name is engraved upon my palms.
But you choose to trust yourself instead."

And after I'm exhausted and my anger has subsided,
after my self loathing and the nagging and the chidding,
I realize that you are God.
And I am just me.

~ June 10, 2008