We spend so much time on tears we shouldn't have...
Wondering
.
Watching as splintered
fractals spin
down, complex pain built
again.
Wondering if ignored
nighttime fears
must contain some fact
hidden.
Weeping with heartache,
hoping gift
held present shows love
anew.
Waiting for final
curtain’s act.
There’s always a catch,
unseen.
Wasting those burning
needed tears
on simple joy’s guilt,
once more.
.
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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