Ten Thousand Sparrows IV Confession

Their bodies would have been soft
like dough I would explain that
I see myself squeeze each one
between thumb and fore finger
watch its mouth fall open with perhaps
a small cry and its trusting child eyes
asking me why.

Or I would see them lie
in the bottom of a machine
a pile of victims,
a twitching holocaust,
bodies of numbers without names
relaxing into death.

I don’t know -
I didn’t want to know.

I went for absolution, saying these
memories got in my way of prayer.
The priest told me
there were three things:
what I remember,
what I think happened, and then
what actually happened.

He gave my penance - there
would come a day when,
confided with, I would
have to tell my own experiences
how there is guilt,
how it haunts you.

And as I stand here now
with two children in tow
and two under my feet
while waiting for this cleansing rain,
I wonder, dear reader, if it is you

because I still owe something,
because they never walked this earth,
still, my children can speak.

by Suzanne Bronson on Tuesday, February 22, 2011

I really enjoyed this series of poems.  The line about the seed cake was fabulous.  Thanks for posting these!

Posted by Margaret Reckling  on  02/27  at  04:32 PM

I hear mine too, when the wind is just right, sounding like newborn kittens. Twin voices calling every night til they are 20 in year. Or more

Posted by la fey  on  08/18  at  01:52 PM
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