A poem is a monument
when there aren’t enough stones
to place on the burial grounds
to hold ghosts
in place.
A poem is a monument
when you’re exiled from the land
and poems are portable.
A poem is a monument
when tears
evaporate before
words can be written down.
When you’re fleeing flames
that multiply like stars
in a darkening firmament,
only a poem
can speak to it.
When lies propagate
into your flickering
consciousness,
sweeping under rugs
the killing fields.
When your bare feet
step onto
radioactive sand.
When rose petals fly
in fiery winds,
replaced by embers
and ashes.
A poem is a monument
when pots filled with ashes
are left in the rain,
overflowing.
When seeds of memories
sprout anew,
and trees grow
high enough to bring shade.
A poem is a monument
when you take time to imagine
the gravestones
of your ancestors.