Two Sons

- jan-u-wine
Someone loved you
once....
 
A mum
numbered
fingers
and toes,
swaddling
a small bit
of life,
 
and was
glad
she had borne you.
 
Someone
guided
your first
steps....

someone
told you
stories
and tucked
blankets
tight
against
the frightful night.
 
Someone
watched your sleep
and hushed
nightmares
from your dreams..
 
Someone....

someone who is
grey,
forgotten dust,

has long
ages since
broken her heart
upon the terror
of the truth:
 
her son
 
could never
have
come Home
again....
 
her son
is not
her son
 
but
 
only the swift
smell
of evil,
the fell voice
of lonesome
darkness…..
 
her son
 
the soulless
thing
 
that once
she might
have told
tales of,
door shut fast
against
trembling night.
 
 
Is it not
a muted
blessing
that
our mums
cannot
see what
has become
of their sons?