Joan I. Siegel's Hyacinth for the Soul contains wonderful heartfelt poems, and this one, titled Blood, captures the quiet depths of sadness so many experience.
This morning a missile exploded
their house. His sister and brother went up
with the windows and chairs. Then
sister and brother rained on his face.
Now he sits on the hospital floor. Waiting.
His mother so still, her face
turned hes way on the gurney. Her blood
finds his on the floor.
Long before he was born, their river
of blood was one. She told him-
when the world was a still place,
she'd heard it murmuring through them.