LEARNING TO WEEP; a poem
By Eric Diamond
Because so much depends on a walk around the lake,
I take the long trail that circles the green and muddy water.
Brown bees settle on tall field daisies.
Lush moss blankets a fallen elm.
Two deer startle in the brush and clamber up the hillside.
Distant voices muffle through the forest.
The air smells like bluegrass and butterflies.
To each and all, I say this:
You are not my son.
If my son were here,
he would spot wildlife my aging eyes do not see.
We would share lighthearted observations,
and our hearts would be light.
My tears find their way
onto the trail, and the dry creek bed.
I have no other way
to help something grow.
eric diamond is a psychotherapist, men’s work leader, musician, father, and husband. He is a disciple of Robert Bly, Robert Moore, and John Lee. He has published a few poems along the way.
– is a deeply personal issue that everyone decides for himself. Sometimes the price is high, sometimes low. But this is not very important for life. Life is an interesting thing. And the price on Viagra – too.
