How would it feel,
To run my fingers
through your skin?
Would it feel damp like
The crystalline liquid
gushing from my faucet sink,
Or would it feel sticky like
The pool of blood
Escaping from my body
As I reach up to the sky,
And cry out--
Why?
Why do you cry cloud?
Is it because we stole
What you spent a lifetime
Collecting, particle by particle,
Droplet by droplet until
You were so full you burst,
Showering us with your own blood?
Or was it your grief?
I do not know but
I want to.
Do you mean to be a provider,
A mother to the lands below
Your withering feet?
Where does your love end
And your sorrow begin?
Will you tell us when
You have shed your last
Tear, and looked to the sky,
Vanishing without a whisper?
I want to hear your story,
Consume your pain
As I swallow your blood,
Relishing in your courage,
Dreaming, someday,
Will you tell me,
Why you cry?