Sorrow

I would not remove sorrow
from this weighted heart,
though it howls and whimpers...
where joy should be.
It is the holy cry
which comes from love itself,
the soul standing bravely
where the world is broken,
refusing to go away and hide,
baring itself, raw and fragile,
when tempted to build a wall.
Sorrow’s eyes see every crack
in every wounded soul, and aches.
It is the bare branch
where something green
will grow.
Its tears are the price of
Love.

--Timothy Haut, Feb. 11, 2016