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tears by Kathy CoxTurteltaub
 

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  • Salty tears all taste the same. Sometimes they find their way to a taste bud and when they do there is a moment of shock and recognition, recalling that place where salt resides and rides the crests and splashes with abandon.

    How does one person get such salty tears? Do you suppose that, like heartbeats, we are all allotted a certain number of tears? As we grow older they just get saltier because our reservoirs are drying up. By the end of our lives the last tear might fall down our cheeks and leave a little salt deposit as it dries, using up all the salt that is left in the reserve?

    There may exist somewhere in this world an exotic tear society that collects tears for scientific records. Similar in sentiment to the beautiful butterflies pinned to a board. Researchers may have captured the most beautiful tears ever shed throughout history. The saddest moment ever recorded, or the tears of the rich and famous. Over here stands the tear shed by Napoleon at Waterloo or on this side, the tear wiped by Romeo for his fair Juliet.

    Let's not forget that there are also the tears of little consequence, that well up at the corner of the eye. yet never fall. Those tears held captive by the rules and conventions of social interaction such as; big boys and girl’s don’t cry. While the tears well up, the battle for control may be lost. Stifling, choking back, suppressing, negating emotion and the tear is oblivious to all this inner turmoil, being held hostage, begging never to be shed. Never to reveal to someone else who might guess the true inner feeling, because, in the end, the tear betrays us all. I let down my guard, my reserve and the flood gates opened. Washing away whatever it was, an untrue love, a scraped knee, a loss of a loved one, an onion that was too strong. Rolling down the valleys and crevices of my face to my nose where tears congregate into vast stream beds, as the tears, released, relieve the tension and quietly dissipate until only a sniffle is left.

    Many things can hinge on a tear. Shed or repressed. recognized or denied, but 'the truth' is often the best detective to release those pint up repressed waters to flow with abandon. Often times we are not good architects when it comes to flood control. Sometimes, the only thing that will relieve that tension is a torrential downpour. Other times, withdrawing a tear may show signs of emotional detachment from certain disastrous harm and continual tear duct excitation. A most unworthy tear. A tear that should not be shed, decrying any circumstance. What 'should be' is a celebration of tear avoidance. Never a tear should fall for this. Never.

    While babies cry and mothers caress new borns to their bosoms and brothers kill each other on battlefields unsure of the war they wage; as crops wither and die in the climate of industrial waste and the oceans waters seep with toxic repercussions, measuring my tears to a scant quarter cup and mixing the flour in the crust lays the foundation of this story. Skipping through the salt reserves and jumping the ensuing waves, wetting my feet, clearly I seek some sort of remediation for my tears accounting. I venture this tearful recollection is not worthy of one single tear, maybe not even a passing nod. This is not a suppression of reality, but a telling of truth. I sometimes shed a tear for humanity. I often fear mans inhumanity towards one another, but I vow, I will not shed one tear for the man greed upon this planet. Not one. For the destruction, turmoil, and mutilation that exists, there is no justification, no tears, only rage.
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