ww2_3_children_carrot_sticks
There was a woman who had five children
a thriving career and a clean house
who could cook for fifty guests and still
find time to drink wine by the pool
she earned her life as fishermen
pull their catch from the ocean
twitching in multicolored lust
reluctant to be garnered
it took a great effort to be everything to everyone
and so she stayed until disease grew like a weed
within her chest and despite fighting
she lost
I wondered afterward
standing by her memory like a mirror
etching granite thought
why life was so unyielding in its give and take?
like a cruelty
reducing effort to ash and rewarding
the indolent cat who purchases laziness
I could never have been
as full as her nor fought as long
I did not have her endurance, strength and will
to conquer life
flaming from her nostrils and burning desire
and yet it is she who dies
prematurely, leaving behind grieving hearts
when I would hardly stir a sail with my absence
in the grand scheme of a world that is
not grand but fond of scheming
something doesn’t seem right about the way things play out
randomness cannot answer injustice or
why some are able to live with so much
while others struggle to wake up and touch the floor of day
perhaps in that singularity and opposition
lies the answer
she lived more in fifty years than I
ever could, reaching vainly
even if I tried every day like an acrobat
desirous to spin above the void
which I do, falling short
not the girl who slurps ice cream to its stick with lavish noise
any wonder why then, some
consider Gods mighty chess players
merciless in their sport
of our small and absurd selves
floundering beneath with taut marionette strings
blown by a strange wind
percolating from unseen place