A stunning poem, a new site discovered. Good news to share.
By Richard D’Abate:
THE SADNESS OF YOUNG MOTHERS
Because we’re at the beach today our sadness
Between the sinking sand and slowly measured
Not long ago time was arrow-tipped and
It found its mark before the god of love had
It filled our bones to bursting, era of the second
Now every gesture mirrors gestures of a
They raise their arms, we raise our arms, they wobble
toward the sea
Like turtle hatchlings, thoughtless prey, and
so do we.
We match the steps of half-formed beings—
Ourselves, our future selves, alive but always
cut in two.
We are afraid. The burning sun devours
Their little mouths will gulp the tangled weed, the
We run, we start to run, but time has a thickness
all its own,
And half of half of half is…
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