The Bittersweet Taste of Salt - Sept 2 2025

 

The Bittersweet Taste of Salt

Sept 2 2025

I laughed until I cried.

What difference is there

between tears of joy

and those of despair?

Does chemistry betray us

no matter how guarded we are,

or are all tears the same?

The  bittersweet taste

and comforting warmth,

the sharp bite of salt.

The relief 

of surrendering

in a torrent of emptying out.

I can’t remember when last I cried.

Am I stoic?

In denial?

Or impervious,

too shallow

to be in touch

with my inner life?

Not just a blurring of vision

and a blinking away any sign.

Not just a trickle 

I brush from my cheek.

And not a private moment 

averting my head and swiping a sleeve.

But as incontinent

as Niagara Falls,

blubbering

sobbing

unable to stop.

The kind you don’t want to

because it feels so good.

And because even the most impervious

feel the need;

exhausted

after so long keeping in the tears

and everyone out.

Among all the animals

only we cry for this;

not dust in the eye

or blinding sun,

plugged tear ducts

or a badly stuffed nose.

Only we look out

through a blur of wetness,

dab at our cheeks,

blink unconvincingly. 

Or simply let it flow,

overcome

by defiance, emotion, relief.

And only we find ourselves caught

in the laughter and joy 

loss and distress,

the human contagion 

we can’t help but share.

Because we were never meant to cry alone,

even though

we’ve all cried among strangers,

cried when no one’s home, 

and cried ourselves to sleep

when the darkness overwhelmed.