when we come into this life we cry
it is the sign of life, they say
and I, like you, began this way
began this fractured life
in tears

the years bring joys
for some
but fears will find us all
and as I grew (like you) I knew
the bitter taste of tears

so see her now, a child somehow
alive despite the pain
born into flame, the devastating idiocy of war
surrounded her since she first saw
the sky
and now she wonders if there is a reason why
the ones who loved her had to die
before she learned their names

and now she has to try to live and life is still
a war, and all around are running far away
and she has no-one’s hand to hold
it’s cold
and hope is far away
and let me tell you this
it’s not ok

it’s not ok

it’s not ok that she should cry
or you, or I – it’s not alright that in the night
the fears press in, the pain and loneliness of years
inevitably takes its toll and in the night those fears
will start to shout and jeer and mere survival is the goal
on which we set our soul
Oh…
someone needs to say
it’s not ok

and this is it
this is the thing I want to know
my life revolves around this thought
I’ve sought an answer all my days
The question still remains;
It says

Is it ok?
Is it ok that people cry?
It’s not ok to me, so I can’t see a way
these tears can be ignored, don’t say
that they’re not counted, please don’t say
that when we’re born there’s not a way
there’s not a man who counts them all
I need to know
I need to see
the place where all the tears go.

and it’s not just those we see online
the grieving ones displaced by war and then despised;
it’s I – it’s you , it’s every tear, it’s every hurt
it’s every playground fear
and teenage grief
it’s children lost and husbands gone
it’s every lie and every unkind thing you’ve ever done
it’s every uttered word that’s meant to hurt
it’s casual hate it’s poverty
it’s pain
and it’s the same
across the world
across the years
and still I need to say
please hear me say
it’s
not
ok

Is there a place where every tear is seen?
Is there a place where every cry is heard?
I need to know they count; I need to know that they have been…
…Felt; tasted… endured, redeemed.

if all the gathered tears of all the world would make a lake, a sea
I need to know that someone cares, that someone gives a damn-
-more than me,
that maybe someone, just maybe
would have a plan, would find a way,
and we could then be free.

And then I see
a cross

a man upon the cross; not any man
but he who made the world
and he is going to die
but why?
The wounded god is bleeding and the sky
becomes so dark and why?
why would he come to die?

what happened there upon the cross? Upon the tree?
Why did the sky become so black? And then I see
the cup

he said before the start, before the nails
he felt so frail; he was afraid – and what
could make this god, this man, afraid?
Not pain, not thorns, no spear
it was the cup that made him fear

they brought it there and he was going to drink

you see, one day when I move on and leave this walk
when I’m gone and on the other side
I know they’ll take me there
I’ll see the lake, the sea, that all the tears made
and I’ll hear how he came and counted out each one
and dripped it in the cup

a million years it must have took but on that day
the sky was dark for as they brought the cup
it shook the sky, it shook the earth, the terrifying
pain of every human heart combined
miraculously held within
and brought up to his lips

the man upon the cross, he came
for this
he came to drink the cup
he gave a damn; (more than me)
and he began to sip

the man upon the cross he tasted there
every single tear; every single anguished cry
from every single year
was there
consumed
…felt…
…tasted…
…endured…
…redeemed…

He drank it all, he drained the cup, he offered up
his life, his soul;
he cared; he hurt; he bled
and then he said
the words
“It. Is. Done.”

The son had come, and it is done and one day I will see the lake,
the sea where all the tears lay, and they will say
“of course these days it’s dry
for all the tears that you did cry
were drunk;
consumed,
redeemed, that day”

It’s not ok, it never was
but my God found a way
he came to take the nails
he came to drink the cup
he came to die
for you, for I

and so I cry in joy
and tears of hope and life replace
the pain, the fears
a thousand, million
lives redeemed and burning bright
the years ahead alight
with hope
and now, forevermore, I hear him say
“my child, it is o.k.”

Andy Fox, March 2017