Solace hides behind leather spine journals in
pale boxes.
In the brittle corners of yellow paper
between a children’s book.
 
It weaves through crooked pools of thick ink
Staining the paper blue and red
A national flag for
the mute                    
the deaf
the lonely.
 
forests built on curves and edges
a battle cry
heard by red sleeved girls and blue-faced boys
 
mothers weep as fists bloom behind closed chests
a bruise of agony
caged birds battering clear wings against bars
 
 
neither fathers nor angels could bring the hand to the soil
 
no shovel could bury the fingers
 
moons could only watch as white ashes scattered in the air
 
like pieces of a broken story.