Tears From The Sky Poem by Emma Atkinson

Tears from the sky,
You speak for me
In the thunderous susurration
With which you cry.
The stormy darkness of your clouds
Reflects the heaviness on my brows.

My mind is the hurricane of your fury,
As your hot, wet tears pelt the earth,
The stagnant place of my birth,
The one I long to escape.

Darkest clouds, I look up to you
And want to scream.
Why won't your cleansing tears redeem?
Wrench the guilt from my locked chest,
Sing to me and let me rest.

I want to drown, drown in your blest waters.
Make me one of your daughters,
And let me rain down, a teardrop from the sky.
Or else, let me sink into the earth,
Down into the deep roots that forged me,
And of my hollow fears purge me.

Soak me through till I am numb,
So that I feel nothing, not pain,
No, not even the rain,
You offer me as consolation,
Tears for tears I cannot shed,
And thunder for my frustration.

Soak me through till I feel hollow,
So that when the sun rises in the eternity of tomorrow,
I can stand to let it fill my unlocked chest with sunshine,
My tombstone traded for a shrine,
An ode to life.

In the calm after storm,
Once our tears have flowed as torrents do,
Let them dry and form,
Hopes rising like the dew that shines,
Crystalline on the leaves,
Knowing that all will be fine.

It will, it will,
If I but stand still,
Watching the storm and letting it fill me,
So that my trapped tears may burst from heavy eyes,
Embracing the truth of my lies,
And the tears flow.
I must, like the clouds, let go,
And release the torrent of my cries.