The Color of Sorrow
like the color of the angry sky
over the restless sea;
the color of the tombstones
that sit lopsided in the
“They were blue once,”
she says as she sees me studying them.
“Once?” I ask with my face pulling
down into that frown I know I wear
when I ask such questions
as this one.
I try to pull it back to normal,
but her words have puzzled me.
she says, her eyes going distant again,
losing all touch with reality for
a split second.
“Before the war that wages
daily in my soul,
before I knew the true
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