listening in the dust

listening in the dust

 

 

 

relative life,

relative death,

eyes perched on the ceiling

there is no heaven

in this mourning room,

but a morning sun will rise

above,

 

and you will find a way

to draw us to your soul

the body debates with worms

or ashes scatter on the streets of afterlife

 

but hearts only burn with regret

that there had not been

a single prayer

 

in apparent unison

one we could all hear

with our sorrow.

 

 

erin-cilberto

11/8/2020

Reviews

[John Alexander McFadyen]

After reading this several times I sense several possible strands to another poem whose careful words offer a mosaic of meanings. Given our covid state it can be the majority standing by while we watch life and death from our own detached vantage point but given the prohibition on worship no prayers can be said at a funeral for the victims. Alternatively it could be us as 'westerners' watching atrocities from afar as life simply goes on and we do not truly mourn for the oppressed, abused and murdered.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I concur with your insights, John, and appreciate them very much.
j.