What does it say about this world of ours
that the first reaction of any human born into it
is to CRY.
We take our first breaths, all of us, and if we are healthy,
we shriek into this new world,
bloodcurdling and reassuring just the same
because this is the human thing.
No other creature on this planet does it.
The new mother anxiously awaits that wailing
tell-tale sign that her little one
has firmly set foot this side of the cosmic curtain -
“Listen to him scream!” she says, “He’s a strong one!”
Flash forward five years to the playground
where the bullies’ taunts tear the tears from his eyes.
Now Mama says, “Big boys don’t cry.”
Don’t cry.
Don’t cry?
Don’t follow this instinct that comes as naturally as breathing?
Why not cry?
Why not celebrate tears of all flavors?
Sadness, fear, joy, love -
any emotion that overflows.
So, go ahead, baby,
cry.
Cry for all the hearts out there,
beating, bleeding, broken, uninhibited and on the sleeve,
restless, lonely, artificial... diseased.
Cry.
But don’t cry alone.
Gather together in pairs, groups, crowds.
Fill the open spaces, grasp each other like family,
gaze into the eyes of a stranger.
Know eachother to be kinfolk conjoined at the soul.
Let all your shoulders be wet and weighted down
with the tears of your brothers and sisters.
Go ahead, join them and
cry -
for injustice, nevermind the latitude or longitude,
the language, color of skin
or local nickname for God.
In all dialects, a wail of pain is still the same
and the whimpers of the oppressed are unmistakable.
Translate these sounds and cry,
bittersweet tears for the strong,
because tonight she decided to leave him.
He will never touch her again.
Cry out in anger, but don’t forget to also
cry for joy
because someone, somewhere
just felt the first kick and is choosing a name
that will outlive her.
She will bear down & give birth to the future with a cry.
One day “daddy’s little girl”
will run away beneath a shower of rice,
tears falling on asphalt like spring rain
behind those rattling cans.
Cry -
for other futures that never quite unfurl.
Mothers that rock slowly in silent rooms,
air unbroken by any cries
other than their own,
as they hold good little babies
who will never wake them at 3am
and will never,ever cry.
The world is mostly ocean,
salty just like tears and
whatever we are on the outside -
we all cry.
Cry for her.
Cry for him.
Cry me a river and lets all swim.
Don’t hide your face
when you bless your cheeks with
those drops of grace.
No matter what you’ve been told -
there is no shame in crying.