There's no one
to hear me cry.
I cry
to the sea,
for she holds
my tears
with joy
in her waves,
as they
rise and fall
while she
rests in herself.
I cry
to the river,
for she takes
my tears
to distant lands,
in her flowing bosom;
stories of pain
shared with
steadfast banks
who are with her, always.
I cry
to the rain,
for she gathers
my tears
in her arms,
to nourish
the virgin earth,
and dust-laden trees
cleansed of their
forgotten sins.
I cry.
But there's no one
to hear me cry.
No one to witness
the struggle -
mine and theirs,
of simply being human;
no one who wants
to feel and hold
Joy in their hands
as she is being birthed.
Yes, there's no one
to hear me cry.
And so I cry, to myself.
to hear me cry.
I cry
to the sea,
for she holds
my tears
with joy
in her waves,
as they
rise and fall
while she
rests in herself.
I cry
to the river,
for she takes
my tears
to distant lands,
in her flowing bosom;
stories of pain
shared with
steadfast banks
who are with her, always.
I cry
to the rain,
for she gathers
my tears
in her arms,
to nourish
the virgin earth,
and dust-laden trees
cleansed of their
forgotten sins.
I cry.
But there's no one
to hear me cry.
No one to witness
the struggle -
mine and theirs,
of simply being human;
no one who wants
to feel and hold
Joy in their hands
as she is being birthed.
Yes, there's no one
to hear me cry.
And so I cry, to myself.
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