when they scrape the carcass
freshly butchered off the streets
and i have to read and i have to watch
newsreel and newsprint
the picasso-sque mouths of mothers
and fathers gaping in horror
and the marrow in my
bones gash and shudder
cause no more is there brother
or brother or sister
then only the words of a song
or the words of a prayer
hones my sorrow
urging me to carry on yet
© gillena cox
Poems In April DAY ELEVEN 'A Message from the Little Grandmother'
April is the month of the Pink Moon. This Moon has a dark star, which shines across the abyss, reminding us that we are made of the same stuff as the stars. That's what keeps us looking up, into the heavens, feeling our connection to the unfathomable beauty and mystery of the spheres.
CHALLENGE: Write about how you manage to maintain that balance, how you hold onto the beauty and the hope. Write about what heals you...