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talking to myself

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Will I be washed away

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Will I be washed away?

I wish my heart was open

Allowing tears to flow.


Without shame,

A healing flood I deny myself,

The key hidden I know not where.

One day possibly it will not matter,

The key,

For the barrier will crumble perhaps.

I sense cracks forming in the dikes,

Allowing whatever behind to flow in freedom,

If only a little.

What is it like,

That expression,


Will I be washed away?

In so many ways communicated tears.

Expressing anger,



And mourning.

Gently flowing for some,

Others a raging torrent…..

Something hidden deep within perhaps one day to arise,

Self control abandoned,

The freedom of expression no longer denied.

What song will I on that day sing?

When the flow begins,

And the walls crumble,

Allowing the tears to flow.

Will I will I be washed away?

Strange me writing this,

For in younger days I would consider it weakness,

Now I know strength is needed for salty tears.

A gift I yet posses,

Hidden behind walls high and strong,

Built with the mortar of repression perfected.

Perhaps tears are different for men?

If so, if this is true,

It is a heavy burden indeed.

For strength to be considered weakness

Forges a prison secure,

From which there is no escape,

Accept in death.

Perhaps one needs to be willing to be washed away.

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