Real Tears, by Carol Lynn Pearson

In honor of National Poetry Month, I decided to share some poetry with you. It’s not long, and it’s nothing they tried to make you read in high school, so you can go ahead and read it without that worry.

I read these years ago as a relatively young mother, and then forgot about them. I found them again recently and didn’t want to forget them again. (Which I suppose is a little ironic when you see the last poem.) There are two by Carol Lynn Pearson, and I feel I can relate to them emotionally. If you know me in person, you’ve probably seen me cry, and this may help you understand me a little, too.

I admire how the author learns from hardship, gains perspective, and shares it so simply. These poems are from years ago, whereas the photo of her here is recent. She really was an actress and played Joan of Arc.

(And then there’s an unknown author piece that’s just for fun after the serious ones.)

Real Tears
Carol Lynn Pearson

When I played Joan of Arc
I cried real tears.

Help me, Joan,”
Said the Bishop of Beauvais,
“I do not wish to burn you!”

That’s when the tears would come,
Real tears on cue,
Every night for four nights.

When we struck the set
I saw them,
Little drops on the black canvas.
Strange, I couldn’t feel a thing now,
But there they were.

I believe it will be
A little like that
When the current show closes.
When the set is struck
And the costumes cleared away,
I may drop by with a friend and say,

“Look–when I was playing Carol Lynn,
Back in space and in years,
There is the spot
The very spot,
Where I cried real tears.”

Empathy
Carol Lynn Pearson

I,
Since split open,
Cannot contain.

I pour out
At the slightest
Sight of pain.

My Forgetter
author unknown

My forgetter’s getting better
But my rememberer is broke
To you that may seem funny
But to me, that is no joke
For when I’m “here” I’m wondering
If I really should be “there.”
And when I try to think it through,
I haven’t got a prayer!!!!
Oft times I walk into a room,
Say, “what am I here for???”
I wrack my brain, but all in vain
A zero is my score.
At times I put something away
Where it is safe, but, Gee!!!
The person it is safest from
Is, generally, me!
When shopping I may see someone,
Say “Hi” and have a chat,
Then, when the person walks away
I ask myself “who was that?”
Yes, my forgetter’s getting better
While my rememberer is broke
And it’s driving me plumb crazy
And that isn’t any joke.