Even As

Even As

Megan Bean

I.

You saw the stalking torches, heard the crack of wood
slammed into stone, infant wails vanishing
into the night while mothers’ sobs
ran on. Smelled the mingling pungency
of torch-smoke and blood.

Even through the blooming miles
of foot-thuds in sand,
heart-thuds in chests,
heat of a new mother’s cloak
enfolding Your own flesh-wrapped infinity.

II.

You heard the cacophony of dishes and grating
of reeling voices and laughter,
the patter of a girl’s feet, a whisper,
the jingle of chains and the whistle of a blade.
Saw the sparkling of scarlet on silver, heard the sudden
collective cessation of breath before
a roar.

Even across the ripening miles
of golden-headed fields,
gray seas melting to blue,
sun- and lamplight glowing in newly opened eyes,
the stuttering of footsteps and tongues as they find
the first rhythm of joy.

III.

You heard the sobbing and the prayers
behind brave faces, the whispers
of sisters – He’ll be here any hour now.
Felt the heat rising until
it froze. Saw the life
slip behind a stone.

While You watched the sun crawl out of one abyss
and slide down into another
again and again,
until it paused midway and spread its arm
through the door of an open tomb.

IV.

You heard the shattering of hopes
into eleven thousand pieces
scattered through heaven’s silence
by the ring of a hammer
on metal on flesh on wood,
the reverberations fading
with each pump of heart and lung
until the echoes were blocked out
by stone.

You brushed aside the pieces,
pushed back the stone,
and lifted up Hope.

---

Megan Bean
Writer & Poet

Megan is a writer, equestrian, and rare disease advocate. Read more of her work at beanspirededitions.com

Photography by David Tostado