We weep because we’ve lost the road that once rolled clear before us. Because we see pain we can’t allay, or because we know we caused the hurt and harm. We weep when we feel ourselves pregnant with sorrow, admitting that we are heirs to robbers and thieves. We cry ourselves to sleep, and the tears fall like rain over battlefields in our dreams. We weep stones and jewels and seeds, so hard even in their beauty. We weep because a new day is coming, and we don’t know what its name will be. We turn to stone, and still the tears fall, washing away the proud outlines of our faces and pedestals.
But sweet, oh how sweet, when, washed and worn, flooded and found, we find ourselves small again, able to glimpse a peace that no dry eye has ever seen.