Dust and Bones

Dust and Bones

A hand gently squeezes my shoulder
and her cruel words bludgeon me
time to let her go, dear
turning my back
I tighten my grasp
rock her
sing to her
hoping the warmth of my body
hoping the yellow lilt of my voice
will ease her bruises
and restore her.

After a while
I tell myself
through the cloud of exhaustion
I don't mind the ache in my arms
or my back
or the hoarse whisper scratching my throat
it's worth it I say in my mind
over and over
and over.

I can hardly move
I wait for the squeeze on my shoulder
I wait for the words
I turn my back
and I look down
but see it is dust and bones I'm holding.

Bury them deep in a place of your choosing
bury them deep in the earth
in a hole you scratch with your fingernails
bury them deep and cover them over
and pat down the damp dark earth with you hands
that held her so warm
and so long
and sing
with a yellow lilt in your voice.

Judith Morgan