Aside

Sew your forked tongues into one
and open, fingers clenched and numb.
Unwrap your bitter, strangled throats
and let the mourning come.
 
Break down the dams that hold us
strange to sorrow!  Let us knit this thrum
of loss into a cradling shroud
and let the mourning come.
 
We close our eyes
and hold our hands
and fall and weep.
as we succumb
we beat our breasts
and rend our skin
and let the mourning come.
 
No words–Life’s blush has left these cheeks–
No words!  a moratorium:
 
 
 
 
 
 
Return their loaned souls to the sky
and let the mourning come.
 

Of Loss: a poem in response to the deaths of children

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