The Mourning Call


The mourning call

of the wounded ones

echoes through time.

No one turns

to acknowledge them,

lest the join

their funeral parade.

The day rejoice

and the Sun will come,

but for these poor souls

the day becomes

maudlin in its infancy,

desperate by noon,

and suicidal

by suppertime.

What a place this is

that could be

so live

and colorful,

but at the same time

leave lives to drain out;

black and grey,

and back to white again.




HG – 2022

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