Comfort-my-people obeyed, demanded respect.
Badge-bibled, gun-armed. Drank to forget.
Forgot his kevlar.
Dental ID needed. Daughter swore vengeance.
Cast-down-the-proud loved and raged,
Helpless-feeling, center-avoiding, Maltov-handed.
The necessary enemies arrived, fucked up her face, laughed:
“Weeping eyes for a bleeding heart.” Riots followed.
Ponder-in-her-heart came third: quiet, nerves of goddamned steel.
Blank-stared a man into dropping his shotgun;
Turned her back on a gang.
Ponder had no lover, no tribe beyond siblings (soon dead.)
Saw visions, chose childlessness.
For who, in faithless times, could endure a son’s early death, stone rolled upon grave?
Who now could trust in miracles?
This has been a part of Loren Eaton’s 2022 Advent Ghosts 100-word story contest.
Advent Ghosts 