Inner spring

‘Old man weeping’ from volume “82 prints engraved by F. Bartolozzi, etc, from the original drawings of Guercino, in the collection of His Majesty”

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I weep sometimes to see a shining golden dawn awed by the sheer wonder of it all,

thankful that the glorious hues I see lift me from the burdens of the day.

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I weep at the boundless energy and promise of the young on this amazing planet, terra firma, home of man,

with wonders past, present and still to come, beckoning the inquiring, adventurous schemers on.

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I weep at the strangers I have let pass by, for some I know I could have made my friends;

so busy I, so carefree or just unaware, of the human that waits behind that vacant, hungry stare.

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I weep angry, frustrated, by some politician’s glib outrageous lies, smiling, nodding, betraying promised election cries,

club members, secure now from their constituent’s plight, sit snugly ignoring what they were elected to put right.

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I weep at the passing of a treasured friend, diminished, shocked, bereaved by sudden loss,

knowing well the inevitabilities of life must come to all, and I wonder where, and when, and how I’ll hear my call.

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I weep that I’ve wasted so much of my life in useless wanderings just to pass the time,

there is so much I see now I’d still like to do, with body, mind and time still left for me to use.

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I am aware now that I contain some inner source, some secret well enabling me to weep,

reflecting that it’s given me for my use, I bless the healing tears that down my cheeks now creep.

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Without them what else could break the chain, releasing the soul-destroying burdens we contain,

thank God then for that hidden human inner spring permitting tears their healing balm to bring.

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Dennis Crompton © 1997