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The Mother enters, carrying the dead Child in her arms; approaches the pile.The Mother:Hello, dead children.I brought my son here.He’s dead. He’ll lie with you.Dead Children:You brought…
How shall I bless him and what will this child be blessed with? asked the angel. Life—so it emerges from the song lyric—was among the options of the angel’s blessing. But after all, angels don’t exist…
Early in the morning the sun took a walk in the woods
with me and my father
my right hand in his left.
A knife flashed between the trees like lightning.
And I’m so scared of the fear in my eyes…
I wipe the dust off my books
with a small t-shirt, an old t-shirt
which was once my son’s. We have
more dust this summer than last,
and its composition is different…
A choked wail . . . Mama paces around the narrow room as though asking for something, her hands grasping her head and striking her heart, and with sobs caught in her throat, she calls out:“Woe unto me…