Iraq War Grief Daily Witness Day 47

A woman cries over a blood stain on the ground after her husband and two sons were killed by gunmen in Mahmoudiya, 30km (20 miles) south of Baghdad, March 24, 2007. Gunmen killed three members of a Shi'ite family in Mahmoudiya on Saturday, police said.

REUTERS/Ibrahim Sultan (IRAQ)

Outside

by Michael Ryan

The dead thing mashed into the street

the crows are squabbling over isn't

her, nor are their raucous squawks

the quiet cawing from her throat

those final hours she couldn't speak.

But the racket irks him.

It seems a cruel intrusion into grief

so mute it will never be expressed

no matter how loud or long the wailing

he might do. Nor could there be a word

that won't debase it, no matter

how kind or who it comes from.

She knew how much he loved her.

That must be his consolation

when he must talk to buy necessities.

Every place will be a place without her.

What people will see when they see him

pushing a shopping cart or fetching mail

is just a neatly dressed polite old man.