Becoming Creon

Becoming Creon


Becoming Creon

I understand you now.
You’d reject my forgiveness if I offered it,
so I won’t. I know you

adhere to what must be
preserved, safeguarded, inviolate
whatever the cost. What a mantra,

how convenient. The cost so little,
so dear. You say you only want to let the dead rest,
but I unbury things,

reawaken arguments
we have tired out
so many times.

Your helm held steady,
despite resistance, with aching hands. You hold
the course, withered skin upon the wheel. Nieces under

rock piles speak, and still you are
resolute. The one you tried to hide
has your voice, now,

raw and rubble-coughing,
but stronger than you would like
to concede.


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December 12, 2013 · 3:47 am

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