Day 310

On the other side of this wall
there’s a day, pulsing with sunlight.
An ocean stretches toward the infinite,
birds stitch the water to the infinite sky.
Sometimes we can almost see it.
On this side of the wall, relentless pounding.
A grayness that extends over everything.
A narrow space between ceiling and floor:
no way to stand, no way to sleep.
On this side, everything is dread
and horror, grief and regret.
On the other side, children are singing.
Unending, we cry to them.
Unending!  they sing to us, in tender
defiant voices.  We are unending!
We listen.  At times we can almost
begin to understand that the rhythm
of their song is the rhythm
of our own hearts beating.