Close your eyes,
feel the water rushing down your face,
taste its stream,
let it speak for your tears,
let it take them down.
Its roar can stand in for your grief,
even overwhelm it
for a while

Blink your eyes
and feel the weight of rivulets
through your eyelashes,
blurring droplets stretching out
the silvered light
that’s rolling in,
taste the promise —
there will be renewal
in its time

No need to dry your eyes —
that will happen
when you’re ready
and you’ll feel the coolness
around your eyelids
and the steadying
of your deep, shuddering breath
and you will feel alive,
strangely nourished by your tears.
Morning will come
and you’ll look up.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 20, 2014