For Those Who Mourn

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For gentle eyes
Those moistened eyes
That weep for things they cannot see

For tired hearts
Those lonely hearts
Discouraged in their faithful drum

For fragile hands
Those vacant hands
That beckon still and reach to seek

For empty arms
Those restless arms
Embracing air without relief

For silent lips
Those saddened lips
Their words abducted by a grief

For hurting souls
Those aching lives
Confounded by some sordid fate

You needn’t dwell on cruelty
Or tragic days we all well know

You needn’t stay in apathy
Or wait for those death chose to go

The orbits turn and time is firm
The tears, not either can reverse

For those who mourn are soon to learn
The earth has borne an ancient curse

Shadow Box

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In bended shapes
A woman takes
The scraps of all she finds
With smallish hands
And sewing thread
To fasten it together

Behind the drapes
A record plays
To help her pass the time
In other plans
Her tired head
Can see a world that’s better

The souvenirs
Of early years
Adorn a faded quilt
Awaiting some
Appointed time
In patient little piles

Her bottled tears
And casual stares
The treasures she has built
With baby’s hair
And turpentine
Above the kitchen tiles

The winter fox
Beneath the porch
Is hiding from the hunters
Her picket fence
Is broken where
The tree line meets the field

Her shadow box
And story boards
Will hold her through ’till summer
In finger dance
The rocking chair
Beside her window sill