bodies

sometimes the body
is empty. sometimes
we empty the body.
sometimes we are
exhausted by words,
and can only groan
or gesture wildly.
 
sometimes our bodies
are broken. sometimes
we fall asleep. sometimes
we have only hunger.
sometimes we don’t.
there is always regret.
 
do we mourn? or
do we wait expectantly?
the crowds disperse
and we are none
the safer, exposed
before one another –
our grief, our anger,
our meager faith.
 
later tonight
there will be flowers. perhaps
there will be songs. please,
let there be songs.