Daily Archives: August 6, 2011

Morning Death

The morning screeches
it’s talons dug deeply into the passing sun
watching sadly for the death of whatever may come
that baker, who spent his years helping neighbors
in a town so small the world forgot
him nothing more than a speck of flesh
but to those others there, a giant
the morning sees it all
waiting for death to call

His only daughter packing away
those things of his life, his love, his craft
and the morning whiles away
just watching her
a rolling pin into the box, a spatula
people coming by
the morning’s watching
and crying too

Another town, another daughter
perhaps a son or wife
bleeding inside
screaming a silent, deafening scream
packing away, away those things
their minds only seeing memories
of different suns
and other mornings
that watched us all before

The janitor’s daughter
crushed in her car
her life smothered like a candle in a jar
the knock on the door
a uniform and badge
stealing the rest of his self
only that one small part was left
but now it’s gone when the morning goes
the rest of the day, the rest of life, is nothing

Death comes, for whatever reason
the morning watches us all
knowing us each by name
loving us all the same
carressing us
watching us grow, laugh, and love
until comes that final day
we pack those things away
and the morning cries with us

© 2011 John Richter