A Requiem, Seven Years Late
To those farewells we whisper in the light,The little light, we candle-cornered children
Who face death, taste our own breath in prayer, and note
It tastes of God and silver, God and sour grapes,
Of the Communion wine that sterilizes skin
Before the silver needle pushes in.
To those bright brothers who in nova die,
Their constellations in the sky whose boundaries press
Day by day ever closer to the realms of angels,
To those candles, to the dripping wax
That traces tendons as it is caught
On the back of children's fingers as we bow,
The trickle finds its way from then to now.
To severed life, to starlight, to all souls
For whom the bagpipes bleat, and into the waters slide,
Into the unending depth with dimes upon their eyes,
And to those who watch and pray, salute and pray,
To those who wonder what lies beyond all suns,
To those who sought life in lifelessness,
And who succeeded,
I hold you, candle-cornered children,
Stripped with makeup off,
All brows regrown and humbled, their lines redrawn,
And all faces rounded and age-wrinkled,
There are no costumes anymore,
But there remain songs, and the ship rowed towards Orion.