Tell the woman who dies of grief
That she died more nobly
Than a solider for her country
Or a saint for her god

Tell her the endless enactment of her tears
Is our drenching too
And that while she drowns
We somehow sail on

Tell her she has discovered a country
Where we are all citizens
For a moment,
Though she never leaves

Tell her the brightness of her tears
Is our guide in whatever darkness
We might find in ourselves
And that its constancy is our reliance

Tell her that above all her tears
Are prophetic of ours
And that eve in dying
They never die

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