THE GUILT COMES TOO LATE

 I wish you were all here,

you dead and stricken;

instead of distanced in time

and place, you would be

old and ill

and troubled each

in your way,

and I, in place of this

circle of solitary hell

with hours and days flowing

in idleness towards oblivion

with all wasted, I

be burdened with your

aching lives, gladly,

like you were

with mine.

Yet this remorse

and wish

grows on

fatal mistakes.

15.06.2021