To a Parent, Bereaved

the most beautiful things in creation
change from day to
day

yesterday it was their laughter
bounding from hill to
hill

today it is a shoal of birds
swimming in the
trees

in a moment they have dipped and
flashed from shattered roof to
roof

switching flight leaders like a cardsharp
flicking jokers in a
pack

in an instant they have come and gone
but, you are rich,
speechless

even in a field fertilised by your children’s
blood

for you have seen the lair of their souls & can go to work,
bagging and burying bones that will bound no
more

fortified against the fetor, and reconciled with a weight
that will grow from year to
year

for the hunted, made monstrous by the horrors of his history,
grows but to iterate that history upon his
future

your spawn, at least, have broken
free

ndo

 

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