tears

i wonder how it feels to hold a teardrop in my hand, steady it upon my fingertip, and sense its wet warmth on my bare skin. how can one tiny driblet contain so much sadness, so much guilt, loneliness, fear, and wrath. and how is it that these beads are indistinguishable from those that spill from immense joy?

i wonder too how a teardrop sounds as it is born and whether its dimensions change during flight, for there is much solace in its release. these tears i cradle, these mirrors to my soul, are not as silent or translucent as they seem.