Woe Bent Beneath Oaks

Woe Bent Beneath Oaks

Woe bent beneath oaks.

Bald-hot day.  Dear friends with quivering hearts,

Milling,

Unsure of who or what or how

To do this awful thing.

There is a wrong-ness

Here

That this ebon robe

Can’t correct.

And yet, a rightness,

Too. A coal dark sky,

Black cotton shrouds its terror,

Looms, distant thunder…but doesn’t

Strike.

It’s as if its battering is waiting its turn.

Another kind of battering occupies this patch

right now.

How odd to put you in the ground.

Ashes to ashes…we all fall down,

Something

Like that.

O, the wail that has brought us all to this day,

So long and short in coming.

Jessie with the smile so bright,

Gone now from our sight.

Pony rides etched in marble face,

Washed away among God’s tears.

Le petit blanc ange – he cannot hold you.

Neither can the earth, though it is your inheritance.

Your heart now carved deep into mine.

I’ll remember you.

Will you remember me?

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