I did not wonder
why the steadfast mother

did not speak as she stood
beside her husband

who railed in the public forum
against those who questioned

the service laid down
for the nation by their son.

Grief is the hum of the invisible
electric fence around the field;

and each bowed head— sunflower,
corn stalk, ragged vine— never

makes one sound even as it stands
in the burning eye of the sun.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.