Radioactive Requiems
Grief, long and slow as radiation from
The ancient rocks beneath us, does not fade.
Instead it sends out pulses in a thrum
Of rays reduced to an angstrom glissade
Inside all protons dancing on the stage
Expected to exist as long as stars.
If grief gives out a scream, an orange rage
Its origin, expect its long-term scars
Somewhere across the far expanding face
Of galaxies in clusters. Every scream
Emitted in such agonies will trace
Its path across the cosmos as a beam
Long-lasting as Christ’s nail spiked palm.
Grief’s torments gleam as throbs to make God’s psalm.