At first, we must weep

It is right
that I bathe in my fresh tears
what tears at my heart to get in,
to implant
through scar tissue deep roots,
then grow up and out through my skin.

It is right
that I water it nightly,
all day let it bask in the sun
and watch it bloom: delicate wonder,
new life that has barely begun.

It is right
that I weep at the sowing
and grieve as the soil is displaced,
and mourn losing all that I once knew
to welcome the joy in its place.

It is right;
let it flow and don't rush it,
this crying will stop, it won't keep.
But to fully receive this new blessing,
Oh darling, at first we must weep.