On Crying

I write of crying. My cat circles around my feet, crying, hoping, yearning to be picked up and held.
I write of crying. The dog who whines and winces, crying to come along.
I write of crying. The widow who mourns the loss of her mate, crying for his absence.
I write of crying. Joy so great that tears run down, crying in relief, in release, in ecstasy.
I write of crying. A baby. A voice not understood. The reason unknown, unknowable, irrelevant, devoid.
I write of crying. Why do I understand my cat more than my baby?