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Dear Son, Dead Son This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.


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Dear son, dead son, how lie you so still?
What words can I say to call you away out from under this hill?
Come back to your peaches, come back
to your bees
Come back to your harvest and tend to
your trees.
Remember the fields, the timber, the earth,
The dew in the morning the glow of your hearth – no?
No sudden, miraculous breath?
Dear son, dead son, how lie you so still?
What prayers can I pray to get you away
out from under this hill?
Please God, oh God, he's all that I need
Please God, oh God, send him back to me!
Release the darkness that stole him in,
That endless unknown that pulled him within.
But wait – oh no, I am here, too.
I am here too, 'tis true.
My dear and dead son, hello.
For I am here too, 'tis true.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.





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Heidi said...
Dec. 16, 2013 at 8:31 am:
The haunting yearning of the parent voice is terrible to read.  Congratulations Talia on catching the despair of the parents of all the boys who died in the great wars.  It is a pleasure to read your poem over and over.
 
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