Cup of Tears

This is your cup of tears.
The porcelain was blasted
in some uncaring kiln.
Now it is brimming,
your salt and water.
Silent, still,
stirred by words.

The right words are a spell:

"You don't know how much."
"I don't know what I would do."

The right words are a spell
that draws out your tears
that surge like a season
that land in a stream
that spells:
consolation.

This cup of tears
is for your ablutions.
Infused are your absolutions.
Be candid, be free.
Face the stiff breeze
that presses, strips and cleans
and whispers:
relief.

Drink.
Don't you think
a good cry
makes the best cup of tea?