Death, death, death

For Brian Wid­dows, Jaime’s daugh­ter Kaya and Cered­wyn and Keith’s cousin

There is an infin­ite sadness
in cer­tain acts that cannot be escaped
and tonight I grapple with the trifecta:
A murder, a sui­cide, the death of a baby
moments before it entered the world

Around me, friends reel, grieve, fume,
plant trees, hug, weep, scream, rock
— I pre­sume. They are far away
and I am alone with infin­ite aches,
a deep spiral­ing starscape of unending.

There is no com­fort in this cold place.
Only wine, and silence and little waves
of mel­an­choly, that there is such hate
in the world, that there is such despair
in the world, that life can be so random
and steal breath from del­ic­ate souls.

Lay roses, lay lilies, lay lavender
at their gravesides. Plant seeds.
Love.