without a hope of sadness

on an overcast morning
with a sharp wind,
I set off on my bicycle,
turning my face to the weather
I wait for the tears
to well and then to water
tracelines down my cheek.
though I recognise gratefully
this weepless state –
a life of enduring happiness
with sleepy rhythms and
forgiveable misdemeanors, 
days with only the record skip of disappointment
and occasional jealousy –
some days
I miss the sob and the moan.

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

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