I read your words this morning,
two years have almost passed;
could you not have foreseen?
it was all there in every word you wrote:
the foundering; the hurricane;
the broken ship;
you, slipped from our harbour.
I read your words,
this endless mourning.
6 comments:
this hits hard -- i'm actually feeling panicky reading this. What has happened?
I think we honour our dead - and our awkwardly living - by writing about them.
Thanks for this, sms.
(I especially liked how the slightly formal language you use unmoors the poem a little - which means that this poem could have been written at any point in the recent past.)
that was a deftly done elegy
thank you, this does come from pure pain and I do so want to honour them
This is strong stuff. Reminds of Brian Turner. Heard him read last month. His work and talking with him gave me 'permission' to write things bigger than I can fit in here. It's good to read your voice.
myra, you give me one of the greatest compliments I've ever had... Brian is a major influence on my war work... thank you
now I need his courage to write it all
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