-
-
no returning soul will risk
contamination here
-
-
Arcane riches still surround
the dispossessed in worship
-
loss is not a word
that hangs between us
-
Then to the bar, a shambling macho mass
of brawn primed for tomorrow's killing.
-
-
All is life-renewing grace
echoing winter's sleep.
-
-
the trees could tell them
but they hold their peace
-
one couple choose the boy
crying
-
Or will my essence leave
a trace that nothing can efface?
-
-
Gifts from pre-war years
to fledging generations.
-
This is home here and now
an afternoon forty years long.
-
-
-
I did not know
grief had sealed me in
-
He wandered in a muted landscape dream Shape-shifting into shadows aeons old
-
Tobacco rolls of rain lie
waiting for lightning's fire
-
-
-
-
In first nakedness of soul
they teach their children to die
-
-
-
for we are guardians at the gate
of forgetting.
-
-
I am old:
shrivelled with despair and unanswered prayers
-
-
Fluttering and falteringthey tumble
Through the mid-way clouds
-
-
-
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