I'm guessing I cried when I was born.
I can't remember how many times after that
while I was still an infant,
or a child for that matter.
So many tears. So many things not worth crying over-
I cried at summer camp at night,
because I missed my home.
I cried when I got suspended from school in fourth grade,
and when my mom screamed at me.
My childhood tears weren't worth wasting on slicing onions.
I cried much less as a teenager. I can almost remember the emotions when I did.
I cried when I got my heart broken.
I cried when I got too drunk to keep it all in,
and I cried when my mom told me she wished I was never born.
My teenage years proved to strengthen my ability to keep in the tears,
because I had lived through enough to have a whole new set of fears.
But what I didn't fear is what got me as an adult.
I didn't ever think my dad would die so soon,
and of course I cried with this guttural passion that still haunts me.
I didn't have any idea I would be put out on my own, and being this lonely is well worth a few tears.
I've cried while I wrote poetry,
and when I read it.
I want to cry right now, but my eyes have become numb and dry.
Instead I'm left thinking about what could possibly break through the threshold.
It's funny how crying can be such a defining milestone.