We made our nest in an old tree

We made our nest in an old tree
joyfully we were wedded.
Nobody invited grief
as a guest of honour,
we didn't know that grief needed to be entertained,
the past lamented,
for usually it comes uninvited
just at the wrong moment.

They waited on the branches, croaking:
we had made our nest in a family tree.
It was a jungle
disguised as flesh, dropping raw fruit.
When chance ran through the leaves,
mothers, fathers, kids,
a gruesome cry and strife filled the room.

Yet on its trunk there'd been carved a heart.

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