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Poetry: Healing

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"The Year of Tears You Haven't Cried" - for Bri

Were I to sit out under the stars
tonight counting,
the wind whispering promises
through the bending of trees;

I'm sure if I asked the full moon
to tell me your secrets,
she'd only speak of your heart
and its needs.

If I dipped a brush in moonlight
dancing,
painting your smile and the sound of your voice
across a midnight sky,

I'm sure the moon would interrupt
and go on speaking,
of how the stars have formed from the year
of tears you haven't cried.

So now, I'll sit beneath these stars in silence
counting,
and for each star a tear will form falling
down my face;

and I'll listen to the whispering wind tell me,
of the healing promise two wounded hearts find
in embrace.

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Poetry: Healing

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