Inner Lives
May 22 2008


I laughed so hard I cried.
Strong sunlight
especially in springtime.
And the singing cowboy
with the saddle-leather face,
who would only grudgingly say
“dust gets in your eye.”
Spilled milk, I can live with.

Some fret and fuss,
always armed with kleenex
to dab away tears, and swab at noses.
Me, I’d rather overflow
— the world looking misty,
tears burning down my cheeks,
and the incontinent feeling
of release.
And the bitter-sweet taste of salt
that takes me back to childhood.

Only humans cry, it seems;
but we know elephants mourn
and dogs can grieve
and there are inner lives
we cannot conceive of.

When you hold her so close
that your tears intermingle
and you taste her sadness
or loss,
it can overwhelm you
— her face wet,
her gasping breath,
her body
sobbing in your arms.
Resist the temptation to wipe her tears away.
Let her bleed-out her sorrow;
let her cleanse herself of pain.