The Aftermath
Passively
they wait
On chairs of
tubular steel
With worn
brown seats of moquette.
…whatever is true…
Minutes
slink by in the space
Left
silently peopled
By worry.
…whatever is noble…
There,
black-uniformed security
Usher
restless souls
To relative safety.
…whatever is right…
With frozen
smiles
And blank
eyes
They size up
The future
vacuum.
…whatever is pure…
Hearts beat
wildly
The pulse
races madly
They
breathe…slowly and deliberately.
…whatever is lovely…
There is
sky,
And urban
normality
Somewhere
out there.
But ,
In another
past ,
In a
different life.
…whatever is admirable…
They think
on these things.
Linking this poem to The Mag 148 today.
and also for dVerse 75... this week organised by Joseph Hesch..
...such a scene...the dark day and the lonely road...could belong to a Seamus Heaney anthology!....thankyou Tess!
Linking this poem to The Mag 148 today.
and also for dVerse 75... this week organised by Joseph Hesch..
...such a scene...the dark day and the lonely road...could belong to a Seamus Heaney anthology!....thankyou Tess!
i like your expansion on the scripture....there is a peace that comes in that....good wisdom in the after of this most recent tragedy
ReplyDeleteAnd is that Hugh Fearnley-Thing who's coming to visit?
ReplyDeleteFor me, this encapsulated the thoughts of a person in jail, dreaming of 'outside'...full of atmosphere and emotion. Well done.
ReplyDeleteThe poem and that exquisite picture together Gerry
ReplyDeletegive me such a sense of peace.
As I read this I saw the parents of those murdered children, waiting, waiting... Juxtaposed with Phillipians - QUITE a punch! Well done!
ReplyDeleteVery poignant and moving. Loved it.
ReplyDeleteWishing you both a Joyous and Merry Christmas, mum just told me it's cold in your neck of the woods :)
ReplyDeleteA moving poem, speaks volumes !
~Jo