Grief: A poem dedicated to the victims in Haiti

Grief

Clouds of choking dust
swirl through Haiti,

bodies lie splayed
in a pile:

an expanding
matrix of bereavement.

A man holds
a half peeled orange,

a mother lies
near her daughter,

face dismantled ruthlessly
by the trembling beast.

A young boy
with outstretched arms

seems
crucified.

Who will
cover them with Earth?

Who will pluck some flowers
and place them upon their grave?

All alone,

a wounded survivor
stands apart,

gazing in disbelief
at the sky

frozen by horror
and lost in a Ginsberg daze,

he feels
the world crumbling

in his mouth,
flimsy and frail.

Copyright 2010 Bhuwan Thapaliya