Tears for Humanity

Deep within me, somewhere, drifting off

into an afternoon nap much needed, I heard

a short cry, distinct and clear in my dozing,

like a secret whispered into my ear.

It was not the feeble cry of a newborn baby

gasping for air in his weakened lungs,

struggling now in this new world of light and touch,

a helplessness, so dependent, so in need;

nor the gulping sob and wailing for a lover lost,

the grief and pain released in our tears, knowing

we can’t go on, knowing we must, but unsure how,

so we cry, turning our faces away from the world;

not even that silent weeping we keep to ourselves

in the lonely moments of our living, our faces

wet and eyes streaming, reddened, tears shed alone

in darkness, confused and hopeless, hopeful, too;

but it was a short crying that I heard, distinct and clear,

somewhere close, somewhere deep within me.

Perhaps it was my own voice, crying

for a world in distress, seemingly lost,

and for the anger, shame, and fear we face together,

all hope lost in the tears we shed for humanity.