The Moya View

Our Song of Sadness

Live long enough and your Father 
will serve you grief with oranges
on a silver platter—

Shed enough tears and your Mother
will appear, remorse in one hand,
a pomegranate in the other—

Bury a spouse, and salt will be your servant,
once the beloved’s water leaves, and
you’ve swallowed the last bitter herbs.

Lose a child, and light will tinge
into the birches, the snow,
growing a rusted forest—

Until all is the day kneeling forward—
the oceans, the groves, the cities,—
their prayers, gutted and rising.





2 responses to “Our Song of Sadness”

  1. mitchteemley Avatar

    Can’t say I “got” this on a purely conscious level, Jonathan, but it rooted its way in somewhere beneath to a place where true poems live.


    It strives to be known emotionally in the spaces of everyday grief. If you felt it than you got it. If you experienced death than you know the poem.

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