Nameless Here Forever

Something in the manner the June sun slants through my bedroom window sears my heart.

It burns through, red-hot, singeing its muscles and sinews but not its memories.

For it was on a blistering day like this that terror, treachery, vengeance and death engulfed.

A whirling hate storm, sowed by unknown faces in unknown places, which ravaged my known.

We could neither resist nor understand these demons who killed without remorse.

Who left us with our dead, the dregs of our lives and nameless here forever.

My homecoming, ten years hence, brings deep summer sadness, which will remain within forever.

From Guest Contributor Chitra Gopalakrishnan

All The Time In The World

“Paul, Emily here.” Pleasant and composed as always. “I need a power of attorney for my mom, Agnes.”

“Sure. Why the POA?”

“Mom has terminal cancer. Not yet but very soon she’ll need heavy morphine. I’ll handle her affairs.”

We meet at Hospice. Agnes is sitting up, hair brushed, gracious, as pleasant and composed as Emily. She signs the POA, we find witnesses. We chat, then: “Thanks, Paul, so very much. Goodbye!” All without any misgivings, remorse, self-pity. As I leave, mother and daughter carry on, chatting amiably. They make the most of it.

All the time in the world.

From Guest Contributor Tony Covatta

No Remorse

Peter scanned the document, making note of the many black marks against the latest supplicant.

"Deceit. Petty Theft. Cursing. Coveting your neighbor's wife. Murder. Excessive Pride. You managed quite a tally."

The man laughed conspiratorially. "Yes, I was quite the sinner in my day."

Peter took off his glasses and stared down at the man. "And it seems you show little remorse."

"Well, I figure remorse is for the Europeans, or people from developing countries."

"Yes, it's true, God is an American. But when it comes to your final judgement, your nationality is only a small percentage of the evaluation."