cathartic sea

Maybe I could cry an ocean
or an inland sea. I never could
have cried a river. Freshwater tears,
too pure for me. I'm not that pure,
I'm not so pure - despite you say,
and we both see - and still and clear
and deep as we agree, I'm never quite
so pure. But maybe
I could cry a mountain.
Hard as these tears rise
and swell, as pressure builds
and bulges out as if
to vent the fires of hell,

It finally does erupt in waves

As wide as tides and cold
as salt. And when mist
clears, a mountain rise
with oceans running
from its fault.