Tuesday, September 4, 2007

Niobe on the deaths of her children

I wear my sorrow as a favored old coat --
wrapped tightly around me
affording protection from the foolish hopes
of an unconsoled heart.

I hold my grief hostage --
a relentless reminder
of dreams that have died
and of the contrarity of fate.

Gods crumble, nations fall;

I put my trust
in the strength of the desolate womb,
and in an emptiness unfilled
by an ocean of tears.