January 1, 2019

shades of mourning

she keeps the high holidays of the heart
in the silences that most try to avoid
hardbitten lessons learned at baba's knee
learned in the things not said aloud
in the kid-gloved handling of husbands
and little barnyard tragedies
read in bones found scattered in the woods
left by hunters, or by simple aged deaths.
whatever goes long missing leaves a want,
unspoken aches, and hungers left unfed
and loss breeds lies like death brings flies, it's said.
so, survivors knelt in temple or in church
so, the prayers were whispered soft from memory
so, the widow's veil like pecked-out eyes
occluded sight, concealed the causes
of shed tears and years of hurt.
only in silence can the truth be found
maybe it was love went missing
and not the men themselves
she saw the widows thriving in their lack,
not speaking ill of those long dead and gone
the truth lies buried in the ground
the graves of loved and unloved tended just alike.




ashes, ashes...

some of the worst days come when we are nostalgic about something we never really had: true love, certainty, time... our memories hold false...