THE WEEPING POT

There are times I feel in need of a pot in which
to weep, when worldly sorrows burden my day,
I need a vessel… my tears to keep.  At times I
mourn for memories sweet, or a song from the
past will make me cry.  Other times I fill the pot,
never really knowing why… a weeping pot
in village square, could hold the tears of all. 
We would weep and wail to cleanse our soul
and in the warmth of comfort let teardrops fall. 
Then, as always, after a dark rainy day, the sun
will inevitably shine.  We’ll dry our eyes
and empty the pot and leave it waiting…
‘til next time.

- J.R. Eason