Bereavement

I know that he is dead.

                                    The livelong day

Someone has made me sit with idle hands

And stare at grief. Grief? I am not so sad.

As one reiterated simple word

Will lose its meaning, so my constant pain

No more is bitter.  I am tired tonight,

Not sad.

            I know that he is dead.

E. B.

The Kiote, April 1901