dry eyed, but - Shantha Bunyan

today | even though i have not cried | i feel wrung out | like a dirty dishrag | used and tossed aside | and though i have shed no tears | the streets are wet | glistening with the rain | from the clouds that wept | for me | grey as my soul.


i am empty | but the skies are still full | and so continue to pour forth | their woe | over what, i do not know | but i feel it | i understand the impulse | to weep | as the tears in the clouds | sing the song | of the tears in my soul.


later, when the clouds are | empty | wispy mists clustered on the ground | i shall feel them | caress my skin and wrap my heart | although the skies might now be clearing | the sun's warmth will not touch me | not today.

Shantha J. Bunyan, a queer person of color is a scuba dive master currently land-locked by circumstance in her native Colorado,USA. A former surgical technician who received a BA in Neuroscience from Colorado College, she spent the majority of the past six years living abroad, traveling to over 35 countries. Though she finds true freedom under the sea, she also finds joy in writing, photography, and nature. Her poetry appears in publications such as DoveTales, an International Journal of the Arts: Resistance, published by Writing for Peace; 140Max Magazine; What Rough Beast by Indolent Books; and The Silence in Her Vase. Some of her travel adventures can be found at RandomPiecesofPeace.com.

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