Infant mortality

The life of the world as it is now is not living,

It is a bad process of dying.

It doesn’t matter when we die, so long as we live fulfilling the deepest desire that is in us.

And a life which is a denial of the deepest desire is much worse than any death, it is a lie

I have drunk a lot of whiskey since you both died

And I can no longer hide

Behind this screen of anonymity.

Yes, I have stood in empty spaces

I have walked along the winter beach

Stripped of everything except wind and sand and sea

I have looked into the summer sky for your blue-blue eyes

But all, all, I see, repeatedly, is gray-clouds a-skimming the shadows

Where mummies and daddies rely on each passing day

Do not take my baby away.

And all, all I can say, in this long goodbye,

Is if you could look again into my blue-blue eye

You would not sigh nor pass my sadness by

So easily: as I listen again to my son's dying sigh.



A quiet disbelief in nothing ►


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