I eat but do not care, another act observed
another memory so leached of life
that the mere contemplation dries my mouth
and I half expect to see
carrion beetles scurry around the meal
let them feed on what remains
scraps and dregs of misguided judgements
and once their offspring hunger in turn
my flesh my bones my bitter dreams
no covered mirrors, for she did not die
still she is torn from me, a kind of death
these will be my seven days
cover the windows, lock the doors
turn off the lights
when I sit upon the lowest seat
darkness and silence settle beside me
companions without judgment or demand
yisgadal v’yiskadash sh’mei raba
words arising without ask
a shawl of comfort connecting me to ancient home
I weep and am comforted
grief makes it falter
forgetting of loss again and again
until this fact settles hard like a stone
in the the crevice of the body
love continues its passage now subterranean
the tumble and flow turning even sharp sadness
into worn river rock polished by time
yet still sometimes in the night
I feel her warm by my side and know
each moment with her was enough
eternity itself would not have sufficed
when the ground shakes in these uncertain times
when the house no longer shelters from the moment’s storms
when the heart breaks from all it’s asked to carry
when tears fall faster than the flooding rain
let us hold each other
enfolded in the expanse of silent regard
with spacious kindness for all grief
be a staff in the fog that surrounds the day
a gentle warmth in night’s approaching chill
we have mourned so many deaths and died so many times
we have loved so much and given to each other in different ways
this is now familiar space
no presumption to guide, no offer but this
let us walk together at our own pace
let us walk together in peace
another person killed
the bullet etched by invisible hate
engraved in his own words
the walls he sought to build
failed to protect him
nor will they shield you or you or you
the guns you hold on others
will be your death
when you are falling to the ground
who will come to hold you
the bier upon which you will be laid
the branches that set afire the pyre
the smoke that rises from the flames
all these will not be noticed
the world itself is in conflagration
the mourning is too vast
and it was dying on the sidewalk
one delicate wing’s edge half-missing
the black border jagged as if chewed
the bright yellow interior poised
as if to spill color onto the pavement
in one last flutter before utter stillness
such brief resplendence needing witness
there on the sidewalk in silent recognition
then off into the seasonal turn
steps echoing on the cusp
and summer was dying as well
though the sun rises quickly to heat the sky
burning its way through the window shades
still the rain continues to fall
turning the walls without eaves into rivers
a swift rivulet finds a course through a crack
the condensation coating the inside panes
like tears that flow from any casual devastation
the hot humid air cannot hold this
so it lingers to seep through the open pores
and you discover yourself weeping
from every ordinary grief
will you mourn if you kill a river
the murder of water is no small thing
money and war do not sustain life
when you were a child thirsty from the noon day heat
did you drink down a glass of clanking coins
when you washed your hands dirty from grime
did you run them under a show of force
when you grew your fields green with food
did you irrigate them with destructive toys
perhaps you do fill your cup with dollar bills
pile your plates with war planes and bombs
making yourself gaunt withered unaware
when you are dying and long for one last cooling sip
you’ll moisten your parched throat
with the only thing left to flow
poison that will kill us all
a shadow passing over the moon
one cast by radiance from the sun
the shining joy of constant regard
and each orb’s glow is ever seen
as night follows day and back again
what we know is not obscured
sorrow not to be eschewed
treasure it as reminder
remember always remember love
when the ground shakes in these uncertain times
when the house no longer shelters from the moment’s storms
when the heart breaks from all it’s asked to carry
when tears fall faster than the flooding rain
I would hold you
enfolded in the expanse of silent regard
with spacious kindness for your grief
be a staff in the fog that surrounds the day
a gentle warmth in night’s unseasonable chill
I have mourned so many deaths and died so many times
that this is now familiar space
no presumption to guide, no offer but this
walk beside you at your own pace
