Vaccines (or what happens without them)
The drizzle sits as bleakly suspended mist
on a backdrop of grim skies and damp, grey stones
where forgotten names begin to erode;
memories reduced to blank slate and rust.
The howling wind echoes the wailing ghosts
of mothers who mournfully trace each etched word
and sorrowfully watch as the wretched world
so quickly forgets the many children lost:
consumed and taken, snatched in a fleeting youth,
so commonly before what now is so rare.
To succumb, after all that, so unfair
to the victim who deserved, merely, the truth.
No comments:
Post a Comment