it was an incongruous sight to behold
the dark ebony shaped in strong, smooth
lines for her face,
sliding and arching if need be,
giving in to the
silver-white tears that spilled like springs
from their white and brown crevices
even stranger, it would seem,
that the tears do not dissipate with
height or distance from the ground,
nor do they
scatter like dust in a vacant room.
no,
they accumulate,
lose their saltiness to a bitter note
that drops into the mouth of she
who dares to revisit her past pain.

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