Is the ocean really full of tears?

Cried by mermaids?
Cried by you?

I wonder.
I ponder.
As I watch tiny droplets turn from crimson to gold.

Who else would cry so much?

All the wars?
The ones with weapons, the ones without.
There is no space for tears.
All the hunger?
From lack of food, from lack of love.
There is no energy for tears.
All the violence?
Sin against bodies, sin against souls?
There is no breath for tears.

So where do the tears come from?

I wonder.
I ponder.
As I watch tiny droplets turn from crimson to gold.

They come after.
Once it’s over.
I think.

Because after.
There is space.
And the duct tape that held your soul together.
Rips.

I wonder.
I ponder.
As I watch tiny droplets turn from crimson to gold.

If.

There is an after.

There is hope.