The good and the painful
Are not enemies
They are lost brothers
Holding hands
After the war throws itself across geographies
Into foreign lands
Where strangers speak in strange tongues
And suddenly a face in the crowd
Recognizes what you cannot ever say
Out loud
Silence is a harsh brand
That scars the future
With the past
If we last
If we are lost
Remember
A number is not a name
And you will never be sorry
For what you claim from the ashes
Or the fiery sparks of shame
You are my brother
You are my blood
You are my partner
In this terrifying flood of change
The only danger is to forget
The only comfort
Is what hasn’t happened
Yet
Grief is not the ending
We are still the same
Grief is just the pain that cuts away
What we are carrying
And must lay down
To live again
© 2022 Julie Flanders
April is Poetry Month Day 24
October Process 