To see the flowers we just planted.
Another spring can almost suppress
The horror. This is happening, the movie
Numbly grinding to its grim resolution,
The sad one kind that calls itself beauty,
Our heroically oblivious fight
Against inevitability.
The decisions that should never have to be made
Now must: the ashes, the organs, the children.
The other world won't allow its peace now;
We must wallow in the bitterness of loss
As if to prepare for a reckoning
Everyone sees coming without an inkling
How life will change, stuck like flies to the present ointment,
Alive to any scene the sky displays
So not to contemplate the old wounds, how
Vengeance will be mine at the end of this
Awful time, and how that will only make
The grieving worse, the loneliness more acute.
