Site icon Your Sister, Kimber

Not to Mind the Crying

I wrote this piece during my first year teaching, a time of stress and wonder and learning how the heart of the teacher has to expand and expand and expand without breaking apart.


On those nights

When my heart is so full

(Of wonder and longing and dreams)

And it’s just too hard to exist inside

The reality of tomorrow

Of the grind

Of I Must

I cry.

Not a weak tear drop,

But chunky, soaking

Crocodile tears, as they say.

And it feels right and rooted

To revel in the ache and the emptiness

Of being connected,

Of feeling so fervently the pain of others

And yourself.

To feel joy and pleasure as deeply as I feel pain would be ground-shaking and heart-breaking.

To hear your heart mending back together

Each stitch a relief, a respite –

Smile-inducing –

As loudly as I hear the tinkling of cracks

Widening across the expanse of the plains of my pain-wrecked heart.

That would be a sight worth the retching

Wreck I’m left as after empathy rears its

nasty but necessary head.

To be able to see the thread

Pulled taught

As I sigh into a hug.

And again

And again.

To feel the itch that means it’s healing

more profoundly than the breaking apart,

That would be a reason

Not to mind the crying.

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