You cast your thoughts and prayers
into the graves of our children,
withered as soon as the flowers,
as soon out of sight and touch.
My people don’t use flowers.
How many parents
pause each night over empty beds?
Don’t bring your flowers
to our children’s graves.
Don’t bring your speeches.
Bring the cold, enduring stones of
Pile them up,
until there are enough.
They will never be enough.
Make a marker
that will endure.
Make of their memories
Not a precedent.
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