I cry when I am being honest about how I feel.
Sometimes I tea-kettle: holding intense emotion in place
while it heats and heats and heats
until I'm blowing off steam from every possible opening,
of which my mouth is apparently the biggest.
Sometimes I make the space for tears to come out,
relieving the pressure, letting flow.
Sometimes the tears make their own way out,
and I just let them, now, even if I'm out in public.
I cry in pain, and fear, and exhaustion.
I cry in awe, and gratitude, and love.
I cry in receipt of life's true requirements.
I think crying helps keep me in real time;
a way of settling tabs of attachment with the past,
and the future.