I do not cry.
I am not strong, nor do I aspire to be.
I do not cry.
Tears may be shed at every occasion, but my eyes remain dry. Every voice tells me to cry, but I can't.
When I need the tears most, where are they? Lost in a past life so that they abandon me now.
Does my empathy seem void? Doesn't it please you? I feel sadness with no tears to prove it.
I retreat to my rocking chair beside my window as rain comes to my aid.
While my eyes ache with dryness, the rain cries for me. It calms me.
Raindrops drip from the leaves and trees. They cry as well. They cry for me because I cannot.
And it is truly beautiful.
Sheetal Tadiparty
Flickr Creative Commons
