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