No matter how soft the light is,
it still plays havoc,
fading my black dress,
it's been two years now.
I am still in floods of tears.
The bodies under my feet
in the fine ash
slowly decayed, the lush grass
sprawling calmly.
Their voiceless lips form the word
'justice,' in my memory,
as the birds waiting forlornly
in the rain.
It must have slipped
into deep and dreamless oblivion.
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