Tears of Hope

Searching for the message,
within my tear stained hands,
waters flood the breakage,
That roams the cradled lands.

I peer up from my sorrow,
of salty misery,
and beg the bless'ed, hopeful morrow,
my cheeks to dry for me.

The new found dawn creeps near'r
and rests upon my face,
the hope that my last mournful tear
was heard for all its grace.

My next mistake: I make it,
The hot grief beads my cheek,
Yet to each drop my palms commits,
And soon hope my eyes will leak.