Children should not be left to cry alone.

They need someone beside them, even if it won't solve the problem. [Many problems cannot be solved.]

They need someone to stroke their hair and hold their hand,
to dry their tears and wipe their snotty noses.
They need someone to tell them it is going to be ok, even when it isn't going to be ok. [Especially when it isn't going to be ok.]

There is a little girl crying alone.

She does not muffle the sound of her crying. She wants her parents to hear.
She thinks that if they hear her crying, they will finally understand, and they will make everything alright.
Or maybe they will stroke her hair and hold her hand. [That would be alright.]

They don't come.

Maybe they can't hear her. Maybe they're busy. Maybe they didn't notice. [Maybe they don't care.]

They aren't coming.

The little girl's tears trickle off her cheeks,
making her pillow damp,
making her skin sticky with the salt. [She falls asleep.]

They don't come.

[There is a young woman crying in her childhood bedroom. Briefly, she worries about the embarrassment of her parents finding her here, crying like a little girl. They don't come. She laughs.]

Teardrop echoes; the tone of your skin drains away,
painting another picture of the night. Whistle-blowers of the night-
torchbearers of the day; kids fighting each other for tree turfs;
skipping stones at early morning ducks. But their mother
inside doesn’t have much time to duck his punch

Well domesticated dogs, too afraid to bark at the night’s
domestic violence. Dominated skin under the dominator’s tight
hands; the love of a shape-shifter— changing its skin to appear
loving for ten pairs of eyes; striking down with a false picture
of love- to the sight of six eyes. Like claws that sink into your
skin; he’s drunk again!

A day away from shelter; for a heaven that does exist from
one’s bruised knees. For all the hurt draped over troubled
shoulders, unfurled eyes crying silent tears bouncing off
the walls

                     A child in the next room hears the teardrop echoes

Does the world know when to cry?
Avidly, the decision of cold...
Could, is a word to the wise
Marveling at a tear one day, could love share a final goal?

Many ways, with a single idea
Mere to fore, the day of vanity...
Sat in high regard, but with sharing as a trophy
Little faces; renown is a pace of charity...

Devoted to peace, a savior will say:
In my heart, with obscurity as a gift...
Measure upon now, new is to be may?
A swallow of pride, with an eye to lift?

From due, we are a family...
For youth, we intend to be free...
More who, than we know; is a key...
Or soon, patience will keep time for me...

With the eyes of truth
Means to an end, is a waking deem
Silent as sent, but met with seeming couth
Simple might, we took; from the world's dreams...

You told me to jump,  
take the risk,
take the leap of faith.
I jumped out of trust,
expecting to fall right into your arms.
Instead I met hard ground,
a thin layer of rocks.
Cuts, bruises, and wounds
Crushing, suffocating pain
Yet I only cried the moment I realized you betrayed me.