Sacred tears

Something new has happened to me in the last few weeks, something that I hadn't expected. Now, looking back, there's nothing really weird about it really.

Every day as I travelled back home directly from work a sense of immense sadness would wrap my entire body and mind as I stand or sit on the tube, my heart would remind me of its existence, heavily loaded, or burning. I would look in for the entire journey and finally open the sacred door of my safe haven and the tears would flow, finally... Not easily at first but as days passed I have sometimes become a fountain offering to the world - to my world - a very personal and salty water. Amazingly my whole being would feel lighter as the tears dry up of their own, my heart would stop burning, my chest would open to the possibilities of the evening and a real positive sense of myself would somehow have crept in without my notice...

I wonder how much of those tear come from a real need a closure for my working day, a place and time where and when I have difficulty being myself and showing who I am. I know I am still putting the mask on as I close the door in the morning.
I wonder how much of those tears weep the small irritations and of the day.
I wonder how much of those tears heal the ancient sorrow and grief and shame that others - and myself - had never allowed in the open.
I wonder how much of those tears run down my cheeks for some unconscious reason still to be uncovered.

Whatever their reason to show up they're welcome because each time, very simply, they take me home.