An Offering

When too early the extinguished flame
It was a mother's voice that came
Billowing up from some primal place
She tore her dress and hid her face
"Oh heart, poor heart, my heart" she sang

The man, stony-eyed with lethargy
Walked dreamlike through the cemetery
His mind could not bear the processing
As his wife kept on to sing and to sing
"Oh heart, poor heart, my heart" sang she

For any imagined fate is preferred
No father breathes the same afterward
His fist around his own heart curled
He reasoned it is an upside-down world
When a parent lives and a child's interred

His heart a throbbing, seizing mass
He believed the rest of his days would pass
With the wearing of sackcloth and smearing of ash
Her heaving breaths a thunder crash
A jagged fulminate, "Alas!"

When "Oh heart, poor heart, my heart" she cried
A tiny glimpse of hope espied
Reminding her of Love and Light
To wait out patiently the night
So these dark times she might abide

And their hearts, poor hearts, broke wide open
But Love and Light came softly spoken

So after time, in sadness seething
They moved to quieter, softer grieving
And were less broken for the believing