DARE I SPEAK OF HEAVEN?
Wild rabbit, stillborn – discovered
in a hunt for bright-colored eggs
hidden among the tulips.
The child doesn’t know what it is,
what it means – looks to me
for clue, some reaction. Last week,
we watched a blue spruce
cut down in its prime. She leaned
back in my arms to look at my face.
I said, This is sad. Bowing her head
on my shoulder, she sighed,
I’m sad too. To cheer us, I showed her
the stump, woodchips and sawdust
that bugs and worms will turn to soil.
This time, I want to cover her eyes,
hide this stillness. I don’t know
what to say – some things
perish before first pulse and beat.
We wrap the tiny form in tissue
and newspaper, dig a shallow hole
in the shade of an oak,
then say, Goodbye.
Enough for now.