There were these days
where I wanted to
cry over all of it.

Cry for the beauty,
cry for the ache,
cry for the wounds of the past
cry for the hope of the future.

Cry with the rain
outside, echoing down;
her drops living water
for a tired, thirsty ground.

We’d dance together
in fluid harmony,
tears intermingled,
watery weaves,
one mind, one heart, one plea
among our sodden cheeks- – –