The Tears Fall: A poem describing a woman and her children as they fight to find their way through the storms that weave into daily life.
The Tears Fall
By Arash Bahman
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Arash Bahman
Smashwords
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About the Author
The author is a parent, a student, and a seeker of knowledge, love, truth, and wisdom. The published written works are getting their initial beginning as individual eBooks, but printed books are in process. All of the short stories, poems, and essays written by this author are currently being complied in to various collections. The collective written works will be published and sold as paperbacks or hardcover printed books. Look for these collections to beginning appearing within the coming year.
Additional Works by this Author are available on Smashwords
The Tears Fall
My baby boy, bright blue eyes, clear inquisitive, ready to learn, eager to see the world unveil its mysteries; the first born of my blood, cherished, anticipated. Always thinking, quietly growing and developing into the man he will one day be. The younger brown eyed baby boy clamors to mimic, stealing the spotlight.
The tears fall.
No longer a baby, and not still a child, but not yet a man; enthusiastic and full of life, yet sometimes anxious and nervous. His blue eyes grey and dark, the unfairness witnessed troubling and shattering the happy thoughtful nature of his kind heart. Storm clouds gathering, dark winds spinning, whirling, blocking out the sun, he is lost and cannot see to find his way.
The tears fall.
The eagle, my guardian, my God; watching intently, swooping in to nudge him here and there, this way and that. Already a leader, but scared and feeling under attack, the blue eyed one prepares to fight. The unknown enemy is confusing, distorting, and disturbing the peace; the domestic violence stealing his innocence.
The tears fall.
The eagle screaming, circling, and beating his wings against me; I cover my ears, not wanting to hear. I cry out and plead for answers, for instructions, for a way out of the storm; begging for directions, searching for shelter, and needing protection for both pairs of bright big eyes.
The tears fall.
The drama, the dreams, the houses, the family, the instruction, the poverty, the confusion, the contemplation, the aspirations, the agony, the flashing lights - life is turmoil. Like a hurricane, the landscape changes overnight. Established conditions and regular habits are wiped out, immediately replaced by a new course of action, regulated by the need to survive and prosper.
The tears fall.
Scenes of the long ago past play across my mind. Images are fuzzy, unclear, and clouded, as if watching through a screen, or dirty window. Remove the curtain of anger and resentment, the clouds of bitterness still stand out in the sun, but are bright and non-threatening. The young woman involved in this old drama no longer resembles me.
The tears fall.
Away, then back, and away again; my son cries out as he dances in the rain, he does not yet realize the strength of the storm. The blue eyed man child is searching, groping, and discovering a new path; even though still blinded by the swirling tornado of rain and hell. His foundations are strong, and will emerge from the storm with little damage, and few scars.
The tears fall.
My brown eyed child, his eyes still bright, inquisitive, learning, and yet he is already aware of the destruction that rips through his life. Still clinging tight as a child does, mostly shielded from the blasts of rain and hail, anxious to please and to play; he takes it all in stride.
The tears fall.
The eagle swoops down to distract me. My gaze follows his flight until my face is once again turned toward the sun, away from the storm clouds in the distance. With a knowing glance I nod in understanding, aware that when it is time I will turn and face the storms; but for now I will feel the sun’s glow warm on my face, and I will smile as the tears fall.