all our dead are beside us
the humans dogs cats
and other familiars
those for whom I have no body
are memory holes
how to contain grief with words
with calmness with love
or something else
something not yet known
in grief the dead become undead
we tell
stories though some names
are
too raw to speak out loud
an
eyeless seizure
taut
as a violin string
howls
splintering
the
cold night air
history
erases us
Syria
trembles with new wars
over old
enmities ancient Isis
replaced by misnamed
acronym
warmongers
misogynists
there are no
antediluvian
antipathies just
common loss
its ritual
agonies of unbidden tears
lamentations
of the body
regrets for
time lost
a place in
which dance is sacred
even the
screeches of cockatoos
the bleaches
of coral reefs
poignant
pain of artists
singers and
poets
writing
hermetic sigils in dust
these are
mnemonics
for future
generations
so that
histories might be told
the shock
and loss and pain
that leaves
you reeling
psyche with
metamorphic ache
grief
creates culture
when written
words are absent
recall is
preserved in stories
places
visited memories as treasure
stories
become song
chant turns
to dance
images drawn
on rocks
and sand
represent
the loved
ones
we raise our
stooping
shoulders
and begin to dance
soars!
ReplyDeleteThanks Efi.
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