Have you...

…cried yet?

As if the number of tears shed

could possibly be a measure

of how much a belovéd is missed.

However, if moisture

is the gauge, the scale

of human tears is

hardly wet enough.

I would cry you

a river

     an ocean

          a tsunami

of salty water,

a monsoon rain pouring down to

drench the landscape of my heart,

a muddy flood of water and debris

breaching the careful levee of my life,

washing away all known landmarks.

The clouds would burst

from their weight of water,

torrents of hot sorrow, a

deluge of desire and despair.

This could not

be survived, so   

no     no      no

I have not cried yet.

This does not mean

I miss you less.

Need drives me

     often

to draw dippers of

cool groundwater

to dash upon my

upturned face.

To the people who think

it’s important, I tell them

the wetness is tears.