Wednesday, December 18, 2013

At night the wind blew on this field of snow

And now it's time for everyone home for Christmas
Except the one who will never come home again.
The emptiness, the voice that each one misses:
the sadness overpowers goodwill to men.
A permanent absence is a foreign presence,
that no one wants to speak to or address;
an unattractive stranger holding weapons
(avert your eyes, speak loud false cheerfulness).
The celebrations will ring on around us;
we will try to hide the truth that we now know.
For all men's sharp mortality has found us;
we will not be unkind and let it show.

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