Journeys Of A Little Sadness Poem by Robert Rorabeck

It’s sometimes necessary to salt the earth,
But you can’t get back your tears,
Like jewels you thought were real as
You threw them out feed the birds;
That is why you must be careful,
And you cannot cry over spilt milk,
Or hermaphrodites, no matter what angles
They pull down from the clouds hugging the
Stormy sea;
If I moved next to her again, at night I could
Hear her breathing, like a sailboat extended and
Leaping the leaves of waves,
And when she touched the other man,
You could almost feel as if she was touching you,
In your new house so near the sea,
That you could cry over the shore’s edge
Like a young child leaning down to where they
Keep the languid lions, and say,
Now the sea is my tear, and she will forever roll,
Crush and embrace the earth, as the continents beat her,
As if she were a recipe;
Distilled she takes the Gulf Stream to sleep under the
Bellies of other men, and she is inhaled by whales,
And cupped in the oyster’s mouth, used to sculpt a pearl;
Evaporated, curious over the land again,
Perhaps while you are waiting for her in a thunderstorm.
Looking up, your tear returns to you and tells you
Secretly of the journeys of a little sadness.