My Mother's Tears

My mother's tears

pour from her eyes
like the summer rain
on the mesa.
But they never touch me.
They never reach
the barren ground
that hides me.

My flesh,
my blood
long turned to sand,
leave only my bones...
lying and waiting
for my mother's tears

to find me.

Screams from the night,
from an endless night,
searched for an ear to hear.
But no one would hear
and no one would come.
Now only my bones
are left to cry out.

So, from my desert grave
again I scream.
But still
no one comes.
And my mother's tears
wait to find me.

Night after night
I look down
on the city.
But I have no eyes
to see the lights.
And day after day
I bake in the sun
and wait in the dark
for my mother's tears
to find me.

Joseph Weilenbeck 2015

For those found, and yet to be found, on Albuquerque's West Mesa -- and for their families.
Do not forget them, nor those not yet found.