When the task is done,
let me count my tears –
the wet ones for my children
the dry ones for my parents
the ones for my youth that turned to crystals
kicked to the pavement like the times long gone.
Let me feel my tears –
the salty waterfalls that build in my bones
for the lovers that would have made good fathers
for my brother miscarried by my mother the year we saw Chernobyl.
And today’s tears,
for the mothers of teenagers who lost their path
headaches and heartaches that evaporate on the dawn
but stuck to window shutters they linger ever more.
I beg you –
when we’re done, just let me count my tears.
Image by Unicadmo79 on Pixabay (one of my favourite ever found on this site)