Crying Poem by Ima Ryma

I grew up in a time and place,
Crying was deemed a weakness so
No one should see tears on my face.
I forced myself to stop their flow.
I remember when Grandma died,
No one around did shed a tear.
But when alone, all of us cried,
All of us loving Grandma dear.
That happened in my younger day.
Now I am older and do be
Believing crying is a way
To share the human side of me.

Like Grandma, someday I will die.
I hope I'm loved and some will cry.