Teardrop on Lilac
The air has reached its dewpoint: It can no longer hold
all its water vapor. At that point, water vapor condenses
into liquid tears. Oh, excuse me, not into tears, but into
liquid water, which are tears. In very warm, humid times
the dewpoint can reach 75 to 77 degrees F. It is then
called “soupy air” and most people can feel the thickness
of the air as they breathe, the water vapor content
is so high.
This is all to say that I have reached my dewpoint
and my tears condense into drops of liquid water
that form on lilac, barren in the winter months,
as my heart is barren in those months between
the fall of leaves and the budding of new ones.
I can see in lilac stems the promise of new buds
forming, encased in their protective shields, safe
from burning frost.
I can see the hope of lilacs. Through the liquid tears
that tremble on the stems, I can see the air has reached
its limit. It now must shed the tears it held so long
within its filmy eyes. I feel the thickness of the air
I breathe, as my throat thickens with the tears held back,
and now they fall unchecked, sorrows condensed
in liquid form. The dewpoint reached, the drops are free
and so am I.
The air has reached its dewpoint: It can no longer hold
all its water vapor. At that point, water vapor condenses
into liquid tears. Oh, excuse me, not into tears, but into
liquid water, which are tears. In very warm, humid times
the dewpoint can reach 75 to 77 degrees F. It is then
called “soupy air” and most people can feel the thickness
of the air as they breathe, the water vapor content
is so high.
This is all to say that I have reached my dewpoint
and my tears condense into drops of liquid water
that form on lilac, barren in the winter months,
as my heart is barren in those months between
the fall of leaves and the budding of new ones.
I can see in lilac stems the promise of new buds
forming, encased in their protective shields, safe
from burning frost.
I can see the hope of lilacs. Through the liquid tears
that tremble on the stems, I can see the air has reached
its limit. It now must shed the tears it held so long
within its filmy eyes. I feel the thickness of the air
I breathe, as my throat thickens with the tears held back,
and now they fall unchecked, sorrows condensed
in liquid form. The dewpoint reached, the drops are free
and so am I.
***********
16 comments:
Beautiful!
You were (are) right, I absolutely was running. The weekend silent retreat that I went to manifested that message over and over again.
Thanks so much! I love being connected to you through the bloggosphere!
My dewpoint reached, my tears are falling too. I love the analogy of hope in the lilac. My barren heart has been touched by yours. Sending a big hug.
I am going to plant lilacs this year. My heart is ready for spring. The groundhog may differ!
Namaste (and beautifully done today!)
sometimes reaching that dew point is the beginning of new growth...smiles.
beautiful
sweet
release
xo
erin
Tears =release
Lovely image, Chris and still, quiet poem filled with resignation, I feel.
The image would lend itself nicely to haiku as well.
Kat
P.S. Check Kigo. I think you'll like it.
Oh, Chris, I know this feeling, thankfully I don't have it often. Sometimes we are overwhelmed, our hearts runneth over, and must be emptied.
We have a lot of soupy air here. And winter is when it is at a minimum. The days here have been mostly good this winter, although Saturday was a washout. The red buds are in bloom which is nice. Spring is coming Chris.
Rabbit, Rabbit
Beautiful picture and the poem is so wonderful. I love lilacs. I always have a bush in my front yard.
Love how the image builds, how tears form and need to be spilled. Perfect analogy.
Love the picture and the words says it all EO. Touched me.
My lilacs are always the first thing to bloom...and they are out by the driveway, so the smell wafts across the yard, knocking me senseless.
I've had my share of tears today too...
xoxox
the words and photo are just lovely. how nice to begin my day here.
: )
may your spring arrive early this year...
The hope and possibility of spring. It's fearless. This post is lovely. Thank you.
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