An Ode to Weeping
Alone in my bed the other night, I wept.
It surprised me.
I let my tears fall without holding back.
In six months, Dan will be gone five years.
Those walking the path of grief understand the weird way
our bodies know how to “tell time”
and set our hearts into grieving in advance.
In the month of November, the veil between us and our loved ones is very thin.
Why do we cry?
We cry for what was,
what is,
and what we fear
may be,
or not be,
when future arrives.
Our faces are the landscape
that reveal the tracks of our tears.
Truth for all to see.
Is this why we sometimes
avoid tears?
Like rain,
our tears give witness
to transition.
Tell me, are endings really that close to hope and new beginnings?
And how often
do we
mere
mortals
pick ourselves up
to try again?
Is it true our hearts are strong enough to try again?
Thank you,
mystery poet,
for inviting us to ponder
our
tears.
Ode to Tears
O tender drops from heart’s deep well,
That rise when words can’t bear to tell,
You fall for sorrow, fall for grace,
tracing truth upon our face.
Washing wounds we cannot see.
Does softening pride set spirits free?
Tears fall like rain as they will,
Seeking the place where endings fade and hope peeks through.
Every drop that leaves the eye,
Is proof the heart still dares to try.
— Unknown
REMEMBER . . .
Life is hard
and worthy of tears.
. . . we can do hard things.
