Blessed are the tears,
Stored in bottles upon shelves
In God’s study.
Cherished mementos of every time
Sorrow knocked droplets loose.

The shatter
Is beautiful,
For rain is truth and grace in one
Salt and water of life from opened eyes,
Oil of heaven flowing from our heads
In blessing,
And it waters the ground of our souls
That we may heal.

Wonder at the weight of these.
The mystery of this rain-world is ever unknown, the why,
Understood by none but the One
Who didn’t just feel, but cried.
He grieved for His friend, and knew

One Who Weeps with us,
for us,
in us,
Gather our tears.
And tear the clouds asunder as You did the curtain,
That the Comfort may come
And enter through the salty eyes
Of those who watch the watery skies.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
Matthew 5:4

(Liturgical poetry for the Sundays between Epiphany and Ash Wednesday is inspired by the Beatitudes, Matthew 5:3-12)

inherit the wind
count my bones
let me be
careful of the cut

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