There is the silence of those unjustly punished;
And the silence of the dying whose hand
Suddenly grips yours.
There is the silence of those unjustly punished;
And the silence of the dying whose hand
Suddenly grips yours.
In death, therefore, I am avenged.
I fell just as she gored me to my death.
If we who are in life cannot speak
Of profound experiences,
Why do you marvel that the dead
Do not tell you of death?
Dust of my dust,
And dust with my dust,
O, child who died as you entered the world,
Dead with my death!
It was all over with me, anyway,
When I ran the needle in my hand
While washing the baby's things,
And died from lock-jaw, an ironical death.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories