Men cried in my arms. I've had this good fortune in this life, to have men cry in front of me. I never made it a goal. But I was lucky to be wet with man's tears. I have never felt such a great privilege as when two short tears fell on my palm. There were only two. They were worthy. The courage of a man to cry in front of a woman stirred in my soul. The courage of a man to be himself, in the empty soul in front of a woman. To be what society whispered hypnotically to her that she was not allowed to be, ever since she hadn't become a man.
Men cried in front of me, and then I felt small. I felt as if I had found untouched ruins of ancient civilizations, I felt as if I had been chosen, as if a knowledge had been placed before me to which a mortal would not even have been entitled. to vacuum. I felt undeserved. Too much for what I could have done for a man in a woman's life. I felt them like two gems in the hand of a beggar. So precious, and me so simple. So rare as to be given to me.
My men cried. And I didn't feel sorry for a second. I felt ashamed, I felt an overwhelming strength of character. I felt on my knees for their courage to do so. I felt guilty, I felt bad. What do you mean? Have you had a soul all this time? Did your love exist, even though it was different? I never knew I was so dirty. I realized how much the soul fits into a man's tears. What sincerity. What a manhood. And how naive in the heart of a woman who wanted guarantees and stumbled upon shit.
I don't think I've ever seen more manhood in a man, like when he allowed himself to shed two dignified tears, with his back straight, leaving in silence. I had to sit down when I realized that men don't cry in front of anyone and that I had just stopped being someone for that man, who surrendered with his head held high. Which taught me, the woman, what tears actually mean. Which taught me a lesson about how tears should only be given to men, because they know how to make sense of them in a certain way, away from the caressed tears of women.
I asked a man: How much pain can fit in a man's soul that is not said? He replied: All. And now I wonder, how much pain can fit in a man's tears to be shown? I didn't answer, my words died.
Men who had the courage to cry.