Mourning cries

nature taught me a lesson last week on ritual grief

Their cries lifted me from my sleep.
Foggy mind, heavy feet, 
I yelled for some peace
and found none;
only unrelenting grief.

Even the neighbor,
that nosy neighbor with the shrill voice and loose tongue,
began crying out for you.

That’s when I found you—
eyes closed, body broken.
I carried you into the garden
away from the trail of your final moment
for your kin to bear witness.

Fallen friend,
who betrayed you?
Cop, 
robber,
scorned brother—
what difference does it make now.

I dressed your body with fruits and flowers,
a shroud of color on your black altar,
and with every offering the sky darkened above me,
a tornado of grief swirling, 
deafening, 
the ululating of mothers in mourning
ripping the veil between worlds
to set you free.

A kalagh, 
khosh khabar bashi.
ا کلاغ 
خوش خبر باشی