We didn’t know the dark

would be so cold,

but we clung to it,

our pride a vine of briars.

 

Never shed a tear

that went unheralded;

we shared our pain,

so much,

with so many.

 

When it came time for us

to stand and move on,

we found those thorns

had laid deep roots

into the ground,

and when we tried

to pull them out,

they tore our flesh.

 

Oh, how we cried then!

Tears mingled with blood

and some of us begged for death.

 

Even in the light of day,

now,

we sit pitiful

in our harm.

Clung to all we were

for so long,

now all we are,

is a home for rats

and sometimes

pygmy owls.

 

At best,

our tale is cautionary,

at worst,

a discarded monument.

 

Neglect has the same effect

on people,

and places,

and things.

 

 

HG – 2019