A Fragment

Cry the soundless, aching scream
Ford the furious, freezing stream
The blood runs pure, the blood runs clean
Forgotten, the treasures lose their gleam.

and I in my innocent incomprehension
Curiously watch you fade away.

The pain of death and of rebirth,
Dark the blood of both;
Black cloth and ribbon on a mailbox,
Yet nothing to mark the passage of hearts;
Multiple lives folded into one picture album,
A generation not so lost as before.

--Megan Morris, meikundayo@yahoo.com