Still no breath has broken;
A child unwelcome
by those who think better
clings to the last few unseen nights
afforded him in his amniotic haven.
Stir and sleep child
before the wind wild burns your face
and your tears lament your rejection.
I wrote this a few weeks ago but didn’t put it up as I was unsure if it was quite right. I still like it, in what seems an unfinished form, so here you go. A poem on grief.
O Grief, why do you visit me unexpectedly?
Warm fires are for conversation
yet while they burn
questions and statements remain
the silence of our loved ones
leads us to that longing for future times
when death will not steal our shared deliberations.
by a memory, one not even real,
complacency is disturbed
by the absence it pretends to ignore.
does not play fair!
I’m uncertain if they will fall.
Whether they will stroke my cheek
or die, themselves, on the woollen landscape