Poetry

TO WATER THE PLANTS

My body told me weeks ago

that I am the ocean

That the sea runs through my tears

and that my tears give me a purpose

They tell me I was built this way,

with liquid falling endlessly from my eyes,

            to water the plants,

            salt the ocean,

and let them thrive

Knowing the clouds

would someday rehydrate my tears

and let what once fell from my eyes

            with disdain

            fall lovingly from the sky again

To give back to the earth

            what it created

In the desert

            where the rain is sparse,

I cry to water the plants