Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2010

Teardrop

by Andrea Wren

Bellied, like the seed sack of a
snapdragon, protruding forward,
into life. A short life (though
a new birth, nevertheless).

Edging into a black lash jungle
tracking a pathway, clogged
by those that went before.
It shifts balance, and tumbles.

Over the precipice, downward,
descending. Gravity, pulling this tear
into being, tracing my face.
I feel prickling in its haste.

Stinging yet sweet, it's a honey bee.
Such a small existence, but oh,
so meaningful. Carrying the weight
of pain, it spills into the night.

Bulging capsule of cortisol,
embodiment of emotional residue.
A healing presence, in a trickle.
Expelling what needs to be freed.

Quickly, shape abandoned, it dries.
And dies. Brief life extinguished, leaving
only a salt trail memory. A blinking moment
of knowledge; this tear is the final one.

Added: 29.03.2010

Email:

Share:

Back