antakya:  lisbon II

turkish-syrian quake of 2023 February 06
for a young woman grieving the loss of her sister  
   
but she's alive in there;  
my sister is alive!    
bring her to me  
that i may count  
the pulsing of her breast!  
i know the silent rest  
whose bodies mount  
piles high, a sea  
that cares nought how to give  
back lives sucked out in fear.    
   
bring me her bangles, then;  
the red scarf that she loved;  
or else, a shoe    
with her bouquet,    
that i may hear her run,    
as when to live was fun.    
et tu brute,    
i challenge you:  
entomb not love well-proved  
in your earthquaken den.    
   
no evidence of life?    
bring me her body, then,    
that i may grieve  
like all the rest,    
whose tears have waxed bone dry;  
whose cries have pierced the sky.    
were this death's jest,    
i would believe  
'twere but a fake amen,    
and sleep would bear no strife.    
   
© Copyright 2023 February 13  
by Clyve A. Bowen