The Coyotes surely understand it.
Their primal sound
melding death and birth, pain and passion.
Our Scottie dog surely understood it,
howling with all the agony of Scotland.
The mother cows
bleating their grief when their calves are taken…
stomping their hooves and rubbing their foreheads
in an expression of emotion
that leaves me gaping in wonder.
The parents wailing in a playground in Pakistan . . .
My friends waiting for six year old Sophi to finish yet another round
of chemo . . .
Pieces of ourselves flying off our bodies, flying off our faces . . .
Emitting no words . . . not even organized cries, only high-pitched gasps,
trying to knit ourselves, our faces, our children, our planet
~ Barbara Jalon Hiles Mesle © 3/16