Lament

by Lesley Mellor

Tears of blood
fell on cold stone
and broke.
The well was dry
to the woman’s touch
but still red drops
seared down her face.
The drops formed a pool,
the pool became a lake.
White birds skimming low
across the lake
dipped their wings.

In the land of dust
and weeping
a terrible silence fell
when the laughter
of a child was stilled
and there are no more
white-winged birds.