Cartography

Is there a map somewhere,
he asked,
a hydrographic wonder
for all those rivers
of tears
that mothers have cried
for their children’s fears,
that wives have shed
for husbands
who never returned
from this war
or another,
that sons have wept
for lost loves,
for fathers,
and mothers?
I would like to know
to what ocean they flow,
what unsated abyss
buries
all these rains
of grief?
This is what he asked.
My heart, I answered,
as I cried.
This is the map,
this is the hydrographic wonder,
my heart,
and his,
this is the abyss.