“I am here for you,” said the shoulder to the tear. “I have always been here for you. And no matter how hard you try or cry, you cannot burden me. You look tired. Let me be your soft place to fall. I will take in your every secret and never spill one.”
The tear just lay there on the shoulder, soaking up the moment, collecting itself before answering back.
“Shoulder, you are strong, made of thick muscle and dense bone. I have tested you to your marrow, and year after year, here you are, there for me. But don’t you know I am more powerful than you?
You think all a tear can do is fall, but do not mistake my falling as a sign of weakness, for falling is my greatest strength.
This is because I am made of water. Do you know what water can do to rock and bone?”
The tear challenged the shoulder. “Just ask the Grand Canyon, the jagged peaks of the Rockies, or better yet, ask the rounded-smooth-stone bed of any timeless river. They will set you straight on which of us is the alpha here, my friend.” The shoulder stood steady because that’s what shoulders do, especially when tested.
“Oh, my poor, dear tear. You cannot measure strength by what you wear down. You measure it by what you hold up.
And not for nothing, but I am made of more than just muscle and bone. You do not choose to fall upon me because of my square and staid stature. Tears fall on shoulders because of what shoulders rest upon. Water may well carve out the body of bone, but do not assume my eventual demise. For shoulders rise from the ultimate bedrock; heart and soul. Do you know what a heart and soul can do to water? By itself, a tear soaks into the ground and dries to nothing. What gives it life, makes it move mountains, is heart and soul. Just ask the Sahara Desert. Ask the rain forest, or better yet, ask a baby at the moment of its birth. They will set you straight on which of us is the alpha here, my friend.” The shoulder thought it had the upper hand.
“But I can do what you cannot,” the tear replied. “I move more than mountains. I can carry your precious heart and soul from the darkest regions of love and loneliness out into the light for the whole world to see. You can only hold it up or hold it in.”
The shoulder shot right back. “Yes, but the world is not always a safe place for the heart and soul to be. But I am.”
Back and forth they went.
Drip, drip, drip, fell the tears. Catch, catch, catch, lay the shoulder.
Bitter winds blew, a stinging rain fell, and the dark night cast. And in the end, the shoulder and the tear played to a draw, as they have throughout time.
“Your job is to need,” the shoulder pleaded to the tear.
“And yours is to be needed,” whispered the tear back to the shoulder.
For once, they were both right.
I would love to hear what you thought about this essay and if it brought any personal memories or stories to mind. Please feel free to leave a comment. I’ll answer all of them. I would love to strike up a conversation about this piece and your thoughts. Please consider sharing this newsletter with a friend. Thank you. - Mark
How many ways do I love this?? Too many to count.
This is so touching! Love it