While the sons stagger through the mud
grow white forked headstones and mothers cry
while the woman holds the blue iris and stares
over the broken road on which her lover lies
while daughters face the sweetly spoken angels
lining their path with stones and soft-breath sighs
while the child stirs restless on the cold floor,
dreaming of water, fire, a warm room, quiet.
Tigers begin the redemption prowl, swing scythes
milky words from the sky begin to mumble, falter
rocks placed in front of the cave start to sway
green truth presses against the earth, people run
dogs scatter birds fly — on the bare cliff Andromeda
looks up sees Justice begin her weary walk home.
