By Emily Madison

If it is improper for me to cry
I will howl with the wolves
And resist our devour
Let my river fill the desert
Let my river become an ocean
Waves crashing in and out
A horrible, grating sound
Let it be so salty you fight for breath
Your throat closing in would be a merciful death
The sword lodged in stone for your duress
Disallowing a mother her time to rest
To look her baby in the eyes
Without constant fear of staying alive
I weep for him, but alas I weep for myself
My marrow more antiquated than a crumbling
Temple at fifteen years old

When I am weeping, I am unneeded of rain
Let the salt satiate our thirst
But I fear the day my tears become scarce
My eyes drying up along with my milk
This wretched desert, beautiful in the night
Every unseen shadow gives me a fright
I hold him tight in my numbing arms
For I cannot let him come to harm
The boy who milks his unfit mother
His weeping mother, who weeps for the day
She has nothing left to give
For the boy who can give everything
But what is worth giving
The day my tears no longer streak
Down my cheeks and into his mouth?

Father I am brave, I need to be brave
Because I cannot let my salty fears
Snuff out my breath more than my sobs
Cripple me more than the stones slashing my feet
Silence me more than the rumbles of my stomach
Earthquaking, forsaking me for my betrayal
Just as my eyes beg me to rest
As my arms beg me to lay it all down
But if I lay it all down I will never pick it back up
Now a bag of bones rotting in the desert sand
And no one left to hold my hand

If my crying is cruel than cruelty is kind
Kind as wandering in the desert looking for a home
Kind as the second sword lodged in my chest
Kind as my exhaustion willing me to collapse
Kind as my biting my own tongue
Kind as forcing my mouth shut
Kind as keeping my eyes open in a sandstorm
Kind as the hyena trailing from behind
If that is kindness, than I am cruel
For missing my Mama and wondering what to do
Mama, I’m meant to be a mother I know
But I’ve never been told how much it can hurt

Don’t you tell me not to cry
Don’t you tell me ‘be not afraid’
Don’t you tell me I should have more faith
I have enough faith to carry a whole nation
All of Judea over my postpartum
I carry it all I will carry every burden
His and my burdens intertwined
But don’t you dare erase my pain
Twist my words for some divine gain
Tell me I should not weep
When a sword is lodged in my chest

–

Emily Madison is an aspiring writer and poet who plans to go to West Chester University. She loves Mitski, Taylor Swift, and lukewarm sunny days. She will talk to you about her cat.