Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

Pieta

by Mark Risner

When we sit and drink tea
in polite company,
when we vent our displeasure
at the weather,
I remember,
that once,
you buried a son,
my father,
and now you live behind
your stiff embrace:
locked behind
those marbled eyes
of cold blues
and unclear mists.
 
I often wonder;
alone,
do you wail in the dark,
lament in the silence of night,
practicing what you could have,
what you should have said?
 
Do you long
to feel him in your arms,
to shroud him in your dress,
hold him limp?
 
Perhaps the laments are true;
the wails behind closed doors
may echo strong.
But to me,
those mists remain
and no light bears
in those dark places
of the soul;
those marbled eyes
as dry and cold
as crystal balls
prophesying what cannot be.

Added: 30.04.2011

Judges' comments on this poem

17.05.2011

I really enjoyed reading this poem.

18.05.2011

I rather liked this well crafted poem without being sure if it held some Christian message or something more personal

19.05.2011

lovely

19.05.2011

So well written, I could visualise the woman in this poem.

22.05.2011

Sums up something massive with such beautiful simplicity.

28.05.2011

I had to look up 'Pieta' and I'm glad I did. Throws a new light on the poem, a nice light.

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