New York Times, Sunday November, 12, 2023 by Suzann Heron A photo of a young child, crying in a rubbled, dusty street Crying over her dead parent’s body wrapped in a colorful tapestry Four other children, eyes averted, are engaged in conversation nearby I enlarge the photo on my iPhone to get close to the child’s grimaced face To see, closer, the small hand and fingernails One hand on the tapestry, the other hand cradling the child’s head I see the child’s mouth open, in what looks like a wail. Her teeth, white, and small, pink gums, perhaps a five-year-old. The child’s eyes are closed. I enlarge the photo again to get as close as I can, to her soft curly black hair, to be as close as I can to her cry to be as close as I can to her Copyright 2023 by by Suzann Heron
SP Heron spends her time between Western Ma. and Provincetown Ma. SP Heron works as a psychotherapist and clinic director with time spent writing poetry, exploring belonging and place on this beautiful and fragile earth.
