Thursday, December 1, 2022

THRENODY

Stone-blind, we carried you 
past the boundaries 
of our apprehending,  

trying, still, to recognize 
some sense 
in the invisible.

Oath-deaf, 
we dug tunnels for dark hours 
under sympathy, 

emptying our heads
of its ringing 
significance 

and filling them 
instead with the glory 
of its grief.

Then, mutely, we agreed 
there are still songs 
left to be written,

but we won't know how they go 
until we catch our children
singing.