Ancestor’s Tears

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #575

Words:  field, murmuring, bruises, depths, lifted, skin,
        wants, crevice, edge, ancestors, salt, grief

Salty tears of grief
pour from the depths
of her ancestor's eyes.
She had tried her best,
desperately wanting
to keep up the farm,
and fields.  Wished
she could shield her
ancestor's hearts
from the brown, bruised
crevices in which rich
soil once lived.  Where 
ripe red skin of Autumn
apples lifted her spirits.
At the edges of her mind
she can hear soft
murmurings of despair
from those who came
before her.  She prays
they all understand
her own salty tears.

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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3 Responses to Ancestor’s Tears

  1. Susi Bocks says:

    Excellent wordle, Sarah! 🙂


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