Tuesday, May 16, 2017

Those the Bus Did Not Carry

Beyond the thousand forgetting hours
we now come to a halt, downcast
without excuses or evasions
without the ability to shift
blame to ones departed

And the departed are not to blame
they, the shifting sands whose
abilities we have long been without
whose evasions no longer excuse us

We, with downcast eyes, halted
for hours of forgetting, a
thousand things we lack aching
in our flesh like shrapnel wounds

And wounds, self-made from the shrapnel
of the bombs we've built, our flesh
an aching carapace of lack, a
thousand times as fragile as forgetting
halted hours and eyes hard upon
false excuses held too long  

Evasions patently false, sands
shifted beneath our feet, blame
stuck upon our shirts like the false names
of the departed

By Patrick M. Tracy

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