Gorgeous piece ❤
All they saw were moments left by those who came before
Not knowing what they meant or who they were
Lain in their waterpainted graves like matryoshka dolls
Did they grieve like us, whetting their knives on totems?
To understand those things that cannot be understood
A child breathing her last, in dimmed swaddling
The ache of old age, enveloping once limber athlete
Love crumpled like fallen leaves, forgotten beneath
Did they yearn to be special? Noticed? Relevant?
Or glide invisibly through spun sheets of glass
Like early morning bakers rising their bread
Grown stale by afternoon, becoming food for birds
Such circles clasped in ever decreasing circles
Worn as sea pearls on mermaids smooth throats
Were they kind? Merciful? Fearful? Incomplete?
The sight of tilled soil and ruined land cleared of living green
Did it bury the same arrow in their quincing conscience?
Will time gently lay a wreath…
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