Let Them Come

Let Them Come
-Laurie Benson©2019

Obsession with counting
days of sobriety or
until the paycheck hits
the bank,
weight, hours of
night slept that is
actually restful and
even the steps taken
during the day.

My niece had her
little boy this hot July,
and the size, length and
stamina were all recorded
with numbers.  Times, ounces
of milk and diapers changed.
All numbers for 
gauging health.

But she talks about his
hair, and his eyes.  The
soft, sweetness of his
cry, and the
tenderness of needing this
little one after so
much sorrow.
And there has been
innumerable sorrow.

There are no numbers
to count tears, our ocean
of tears.
Grief and joy,
pleasure and pain,
surprise and alive tears,
tears to be cried
every day.
Every day.

Why do we hold them
back?  As if you could part
the Red Sea of
your tears to let all of
your anxieties escape from

Tears are meant to be
free falling.  Not caught
or brushed away, but
trickled and welled,
swelled and shed,
never fled

Let them come.
Let them come.