The soul is alone with its tears Poem by Ann Jäderlund

The soul is alone with its tears. In coverings. Spread over the
dense eye. Only a quarter can be seen. An eighth
or less. Left in the facial shell like a membrane. A
spirit flame without fire. It does not burn. It does not fly.
Does not crackle in the ear. It only pushes itself
up morosely. It is engraved in the cornea like a scar
in the thin layer. It can barely look out. Hardly
be seen by someone or by something.