I’m here. I’m here. I’m right here…and I am not well

Squatting in the ashes, scraping festering sores

And there you are…right there

Dead shark eyes deliberately unseeing

Cadaverous hearts, pickled and pristine

I would cherish any of you to sit with me where I am

Even as Job’s friends, whether mute or fumbling

To try and make sense of failure and despair

But no…you will not acknowledge me here

Denying my family – YOUR FAMILY – so much as a scrap

The affection and resources you lavish on dogs

Days became months turned to years spent right here

Silently screaming, staring at your backs turned…right there

I’m here. I’m here. I’m right here…and I am not well