It is a night, like many,
Spent watching
The navy sky fade
Into the grey drear of dawn.
As those hours
Blur into days,
As those days
Click into weeks,
As those weeks
Skelter into months,
She still weeps.
He does not sleep,
But sighs alone,
Hoping when
Each child arrives,
He’ll reconcile his sorrow.
But each new chick reminds him
Of the one who can’t fly home.
The son who laughed through life.
The brother,
Barely a man.
She exists.
He carries on.
They do not falter,
With their smiles,
Rejoicing each
Speck of news.
But in the night,
The blackened night,
They paddle palms,
Hold each other
And do not sleep.