Because Her Heart Is Tender, for Beth

She scrawled soft words in soap: “Never Forget,”
Dove-white on her car’s window, and the wren,
because her heart is tender, might regret

it called the sun to wake her. As I slept,
she heard lost names recounted, one by one.
She wrote in sidewalk chalk: “Never Forget,”

and kept her heart’s own counsel. No rain swept
away those words, no tear leaves them undone.
Because her heart is tender with regret,

bruised by razed towers’ glass and steel and stone
that shatter on and on and on and on ...
she stitches in wet linen: “NEVER FORGET,”

and listens to her heart’s emphatic song.
The wren might tilt its head and sing along
because its heart once understood regret

when fledglings fell beyond, beyond, beyond ...
its reach, and still the boot-heeled world strode on.
She writes in adamant: “NEVER FORGET”
because her heart is tender with regret.

by Michael R. Burch