She brushes his becalmed lips before
she lifts his spirit-slipped
shell into her husband’s hands.
What do her neighbors say
as they anchor, hearts furled?
Take comfort as if your womb does not
still clench only months after he gasped
his first salutation to the world.
Your son is but a small ship that
has been impaled upon a huge
iceberg of misinformation
and now floats upon the ocean of
blood that flowed in our streets as
he joins those who have already
been broken and shattered on the rocks
jutting from the shores on the far
side of the Bay of Bengal.