Musings #13
DROWNED
Bleeding hearts splay bent,
their stems limp like seaweed,
tulips buried in the snow.
Still, the hard ground softens,
fear of drought subsides.
He remembers what I have said –
looks for a gift in his brother’s death
hoping it was suicide,
finding a certain comfort
in thinking this a choice.
Dear man, there is no escape
from grief. The gifts arrive late
and only after the heart breaks.
Salt pours into the wide
eye of ocean.
Deliberate leap or swept below,
that his brother knew this
a near-stranger could tell
from the way his face cracked
open when he smiled.