He stood at the gravesin silence, abhorrence,while the wind whistledin his earslike an insult,to those he'd lost.The wind;the insult,coiled up the sky,then snapped it back asthunderous laughter - tauntto his futile stoicism.He found his throat -found it void ofall but guttural noise,and gulped it back down:the swelling of eyes and heartamongst the rain,as the sting drowned out the depths.
