The Broken Dam

The dam is broken now,

weakened from disrepair,

from straining to contain all that rain

and the torrential floods that poured in,

swelling its banks, churning its base.

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Its foundations cracked years ago

from the burden of unshed tears.

And when I stand, I bleed out.

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I stand anyway, rooted in place;

a witness and a participant.

The deluge starts slow at first...

a drip, drip from fingertips and toes.

But not for long, the floodgates gone,

I become the waterfall,

the rush of heavy drops bursting.

Drenching the world.

Dredging the world.

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And when it's all done,

emptied and clean,

there is a valley to fill again.