He'd hold your tears instead

He stood,

As sandy stones beneath his feet

Grow hot, cold,

Hard, soft; sinking toes.

In creeps texture;

Wind-cracked skin.

Fingertips tingle with incipient awareness

Of misty skies

Vapour ephemeral,

Yellow streaks transient.

Like life that passes


Like the sun that rises and eventually sets.


The tears that rim

Snake slowly down

Each drop in slow-motion fall.

Sand turns blurry grey.

But no frenzied horror writhes in him

No wind-tossed emotions

Only loneliness stilled like surface seas.

He knew too well she's gone.


His pain a dissipated pink

That spread across the clouds.

Rich colour reflected on

breaking waves

of sadness that rising, roaring crash

Down upon his soul

As swallows of sorrow soar.


But look up,

There is still some magnificence

Some glory in that glow

In every stroke His hand is seen

His hand that painted beauty.

The birds

have far more songs to sing

The sand

has yet to be washed

By tides

tinged with reddish glow,

By tides of His love and blood.


She's gone, but not to someplace sad

She's gone to a place where the sun would shine

More beautiful than now.

Where voices sweeter than swallows sing

Where greater power than the seas

Of roaring waves and ebbing flow

Will be exalted high.


So wipe the flowing tears away

And whisper a little prayer.


For He could hold the ocean in His hand,

But He'd choose to hold your tears instead.