Tears (Poem)

By Amirah David

I think tears are beautiful.

Pearls of something honest.

The pull and grind of the not-right against the good beyond us.

Her eyes were closed.

Promised her body she’d listen.

Her chest released from fear’s prison,

and she touched a strand of compassion for a part of her she’d ran from.

There through the eyes of God she could see it was the source of her passion.

The warrior force that let her stand with fear and stay.

And the tears sprang from the mountain spring of truth - 

one side grief, one side relief.

Two slight waterfalls in unison sliding down pink cheekbones,

bending to wet the creases beside her nose,

turning to salt the corners of her sad smile,

down the quaking chin to take the wild dive past the balled up child in her throat

and then, despite their birth from two different sides,

the tears met in one last glide down her chest and found rest in their gentle collide - 

the place where joy and sorrow can nest below the breast -

where the truth of a broken world and redemption build hope in our breath.

Even Jesus, the crystal spring of joy...wept.

Even though He knew He’d destroy death.

Tears are the pure voice of our love blocked without the choice to go on.

They are balm to cool the burn of wrong without a voice.

And they are an instrument of our rejoicing song.