Contributor: Cynthia Pitman

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“Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee.” -
-- Gerard Manley Hopkins

When Sorrow comes to visit,
We feast from dusk ‘til dawn.
We binge on acrid memories
To celebrate him home.

I greet him at the doorway,
Embrace him with a laugh:
(“Why do you stay away so long?”)
I kill the fatted calf.

I hone the blade to piercing;
Mortal flesh is rent.
We fill our cups with overflow
Of bitter sacrament.

We raise a glass to visions
Turned rancid with regret;
Whet our frenzied appetites -
Toast all we can’t forget.

We reminisce for hours
(“How Hopelessness has grown!”),
Share tears in fond remembrance
Of all the hurt we’ve known.

We gnaw the carrion carcass,
Gorge on life unjust,
Suck marrow from the brittle bones,
Sate our wanton lust.

Then purgative Redemption
Administers release:
She guts our bloated torment,
Bestows her blesséd peace.

Sorrow gathers up to go;
He lumbers on his way.
I watch until he’s out of sight. . .
Then clear the mess away.


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Last summer, I began writing again after a 30-year hiatus. I have since had several poems and stories published, including in Leaves of Ink.