I sit at the bus stop
Studying the narrow alleyway opposite
Measuring it in my head
Sizing up the pavement
Trying to understand
How a slim stretch of road
Became a mass grave of the young
My son,
When you breathed your last
You did not bleed like soldiers do
You did scream like the wounded do
You simply fell unconscious
As others trampled over you
And the air left your lungs —
Weightless, thoughtless air
The shadows have grown heavy
The family business is still shut
Winter is coming
I put on a sweater for the cold
And another to brace for a life without you
Violent snow settles on my unploughed heart
Tell me: how do I continue living?
The carnations have wilted
The condolences have ceased
The politicians are no more
But the memory of you stains me
Stabs me, violates me
I dream:
A man offers to skin me alive in exchange for your life
I undress myself
Feel the cool knife work its way through my body
And all I think to myself is
What a small price to pay
For you to be happy
Your feet planted firmly on the earth.
