© 2011 by Duane Kirby Jensen 6 x 12 x 1 1/2 acrylic in cradled panelTears
After the others had fled into the wastelands, the boldest mannikin, eased back into the City of Man to retrieve his fallen kin and transport them to a better place. Picking up limb after limb and fragment upon fragment of torsos and other parts too ravaged to identify. The savages, as he now called the humans, had scattered his kin down allies and gutters as if they had been garbage or bile, unworthy of anything except them being the objects of their anger and amusement.
Then he found her, the one who he was the closest too. They shared a bond that, until this moment, he could never quite describe, but that the books he had read described as love. She had instilled his spirit with fire. Silently. Reverently. He held her battered head in his trembling hands. Remembering their conversations, their hopes and excitement of discovering the outer world. But know her head held no thoughts to share. No kind words. Just emptiness, that filled him with dead space... until he offered her the gift of water, a substance that was foreign to his body.
At that moment he could feel her head, feel tears streaming down his face, hear muffled sobs that were escaping from his lips. He now understood love. He understood pain. He understood longing and lose. He understood hate. He understood the nature of miracles.
Shed tears unlock the nature of soul,
open the gateways of empathy,
that first shed tear pivots the moment of transformation,
accelerating the evolution of becoming
a being willing to carry the weight of compassion.
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