Sacrifice

There are times—

some times—

when the Earth demands tears as sacrifice.

After long stretches of hurt

where humanity seems the infrequent succulent in a dry place,

Mother Earth—too long sober—seeks strong drink.

Tears must flow like wine to satiate;

placate Her.

Only mourning can end this drought;

this long night.

Think of what we have lost!

Terrified of the last flood,

we daughters of Noah

forgot our mother, and

damned the river of tears.

Afraid of drowning again

we forgot that, when we open the floodgates

and let the pain flow through our tears,

the sand and the heat and the dust cannot overtake us.

The drought cannot endure.

This time, we welcomed the fire.

Next time, we must welcome the river—

the grief, the healing, the growth.

Lord that the river would mold mountains to sustain us;

full of trees that we may build our harbor.

Next time we will all drink together.

Numb no more.

No longer engaging in false modesties.

Extreme only in our desire for balance.

Content in the knowledge that our

sacred sacrifice of tears will be our savior.

Knowing at the core of us—at the core of all things—

we will be free in the morning.