If you are reading this,
by some miracle, find our home.
Find the glassy marble,
fractured, but somehow still
rolling around a red-faced giant –
a star we called the sun.
Your fall will be broken
by mortuary houses,
tumuli, blasted cairns,
dusty relics, ruined
monuments to fatal moments –
grim faces set in stone.
Understand, we did more
than erect walls, divide Berlin
and fortify China,
but our softer gestures
faded, uncommemorated –
a disembodied laugh.
A dog in a collar
lay down before the avalanche,
when Vesuvius blew.
We fled to the orchard
in total, foetal fear –
the kind words cannot ossify.
We digress. Please, find us.
We stray from our purpose. Find us –
wait awhile by our cenotaph.
Watch the livid sun set
the earth eternally aflame.
And know we held our children close –
we held them at the close.
