Stretchers and body bags
Men in fire suits
stepping over the debris
their load light, macabre
Images charred into my psyche –
four cousins dead
the eldest ten
It was 1968
Now, we stand at an adjacent grave
the children’s headstone an open book –
frozen in time – so many chapters unwritten-
the grief has not lessened
We’ve gathered to bury an uncle
youngest of ten –
only one remains –
the children’s father
At 95, he chokes on words
points to his children in the ground –
Those are my kids! he croaks
although we didn’t need the reminder
Tragedy lingers in the heart
in the mind
in the collective consciousness
I turn on the news –
tiny body bags
on stretchers
carefully removed
from the debris
Tragedy: a forever thread
in the tapestry of life.
(Image my own)
History is such a woven thing. I hear the words clearly in this one.
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Agreed. Thank you
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I cannot even imagine the horror. It is a tragic thread that runs through humanity, and I just can’t understand it.
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I can’t either, LuAnne. So tragic.
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A dark poem, it reminders of Poe’s.
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Thanks
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Beautiful
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Thanks
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This poem really makes me stop and think!!!!!
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Don’t stop too long; it’s kind of dark 🤗 Thanks
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Que ocurrió y donde en 1968? Me cuentas lo que pasó?
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Cuatro de mis primas perecieron en un incendio.
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Que fuerte! ( Esta expresión en español biene a decir que lo ocurrido es muy duro, increíble,subrealista etc.)
Y de nuestras experiencias vividas queda hueya.
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¡Verdad!
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The edge of despair is one I know well. 2 babies, taken from my womb, 1990, 1992. No words can ever begin to describe the loss of a child.
One never gets over it, but my consolation and hope in a merciful God helps me through it.
“I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord In the land of the living.” Ps 27:13
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Oh, Mary, I am so sorry. Some holes can never be repaired.
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The public can become so personal. Layers of lost lives…there seems to be no end to them. Very moving, VJ. (K)
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Yes, thanks K. Well said
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What a sad family history. I’m afraid this hits home this week. A dear friend lost her son to suicide this week. Just about 22 years old. No words for that, only heartbreak.💔
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We lost a cousin to suicide also – most painful funeral I have ever attended. You are right – there are no words
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What a powerful, gut-wrenching poem.
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Thanks Liz. The images on the news these days always brings this memory back.
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You’re welcome, VJ. That’s certainly understandable.
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Searing and poignant. A powerful piece. I’m so sorry for the loss sustained all these years ago.
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Thanks Julie. Billy, the oldest, was just two weeks younger than me and every time my Aunt and Uncle see me they remember it and wonder where he would be now.
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oh ugh, the tragedy is palpable, VJ.. xo 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼
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Thanks Cindy. I never want to dwell, but it is all part of life’s story.
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Haunting poem and a parent’s nightmare.
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thanks Lynne.
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You captured the lingering pain that comes with death and inexplicable tragedies. We store it somewhere in our hearts and minds, but it never truly leaves.
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No, it never does, and often catches us at such unexpected moments.
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Yes, exactly.
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Oh my, so much pain captured in strength and beauty. “Those are my kids…” Yes, and always. 🥲
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It makes me think of parents everywhere, losing children to war or school shootings – unnecessary and deeply rooted pain.
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No words. Too long now {since time began).
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You are so right, Ron.
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Very powerful. Excellent execution on this piece.
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Thank you, Adam
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Such a tragic tale in so few words
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Thanks Marie.
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Heart-rending
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Thanks Derrick
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I don’t understand: what happened in ’68?
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In 1968, four of my cousins died in a house fire. They were 4, 6, 8, and 10. Only my aunt and uncle survived.
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my goodness: I don’t know how you would get over a dreadful, defining moment like that; condolences, Vi 🙂
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The parents never really did recover.
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Resumes mucho la historia. Supongo que es bueno contar…, aunque es necesario poner un punto y final o un punto y hasta otro momento. Duelos por doquier; la retina y los sentidos tienen memoria, y no precisamente artificial.
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Gracias
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It’s so tragic when parents have to bury their children
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Tragic beyond words, Sadje.
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I know as my grandparents on both sides went through this
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