Tears of Heaven
By Adrienne Clark
4/30/2007
Peace is the smell of moist dust sifting up,
filtering from warm, new rain-fallen, dry ground.
Peace is the grey woolen blanket
cradling the earth, enveloping and tenderly enfolding,
In comfortable closeness to the expansive mother’s breast.
Peace is the quiet of retreating residents and emerging birds,
only you and the soft pattering and the natives
alone, at home, together.
Peace is the gentle touch of heaven’s lozenges,
Tears of relieving, calming release, falling just for you,
Clear kisses descending to minutely peck your cheek,
caress your face,
and with its cool grey sheet, cleanse your opened heart.
Peace is the penetrating breath of moist and cool crispness,
Just sharp enough to tingle your outer wrappings
And remind you so powerfully that you are alive.
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