. Ruben “We have words that speak of the ongoing presence of such privations: orphan, widow, widower. And perhaps the fact that we have no word for the parent who has lost a child is itself a testimony to the unspeakable abiding horror and pain of such a circumstance.” ---Carl R. Trueman, “The Final Enemy” He wore these clothes still hanging here on hangers, One by one, supported by his shoulders. Their sight now weighs on all our hearts like boulders. The music many heard, played by his fingers On this guitar, is soundless, though it lingers, Reverberating grief. His memory smoulders In sunlight in the spring and summer garden Where his unspoken thoughts and silent questions Were planted deeply – and where, now, suggestions Of him are everywhere, drift through the yard in Echoes that ring unheard from every flower To secret places in our inner ears. Their distant overtones bounce off his car In dirges that disfigure every hour Until we don’t know when or where we are In time: each day fills with uncounted years, And each year with a lifetime’s haunted tears. . . Ozymandias’ Remains Speak My head no longer buried in the sand Of ego, able only to look up From here, where time has left my half-sunk face, At last I see the sky. When from the grand High throne I saw my subjects from its top, I thought I’d always rule the human race, Delighting in my sneer of cold command When looking down on them. I can’t erase These lines from my expression now, because My face is made of stone. It serves me right; In life, my heart was hard as rock; my jaws Were set like flint. My throne’s imposing height Made me feel immortal. When I was Alive, I cared for nothing but my might. I hardly lifted my self-centered eyes To see the sun’s sharp, equalizing ray. I see it now---and see that nature’s laws Are higher than my own, and much more wise. And I can see, by piercing light of day, What’s happened to the shattered realms stretched far away. . . Cynthia Erlandson is a poet and fitness professional living in Michigan. Her second collection of poems, Notes on Time, has recently been published by AuthorHouse, as was her first (2005) collection, These Holy Mysteries. Her poems have also appeared in First Things, Modern Age, The North American Anglican, The Orchards Poetry Review, The Book of Common Praise hymnal, and elsewhere.