Crow no more.

By celticman
- 1240 reads
Did you see mum in her prime
Dodder as if in fine wine
Totter on a lost wee soul
Garment half-clean, rents unseen
Half-smile at familiar faces
Where she should have been
Haggard, weary-limbed –
Chilled to the bone
Trudge lost and hopelessly on
With glassless eyes and face new drawn
Taut with woe
Grim with dawn?
Did you see her aimless go
Bowled over with that –
Fragment
Word
Sentence
Soaking through
Staring out in disgust at you
Nothing of tomorrow
Quenched of fire and sorrow?
Did you see Jean when she comes
Mouth half-filled with scum
Suds and blood and crumpled flesh
Where there’s nothing fresh
Numbing years ring like hours
Lag on and drag-on
The hopeless day
Naught but a child’s voice
It doesn’t have to be that way
Scourge without end
Death a smiling friend?
Did you see my mum
When she was outside hell
If not—ah well
Your loss not mine
I think you’ll find
That makes sense
But do not caw or pray
On the immortal soul being that way?
If you’ve seen love come down the line
You’ll know peace that is divine
If you’ve seen charity that needs no hymn
Let silence reign
Let the dead be dead and not a dread
And work for the unfinished living instead.
There lies a glittering truth
An unfilled space in my heart
Kept clean and clear
How great thou Art.
- Log in to post comments
Comments
Great characterisation. \hard
Great characterisation. Hard to leave the dead behind.
- Log in to post comments
The many sides of Jean, fresh
The many sides of Jean, fresh sharp heartfelt poem.
- Log in to post comments
Perhaps you share Jean's
Perhaps you share Jean's sensitivity but are able to organise it better.
- Log in to post comments
You and poetry are taking off
You and poetry are taking off. There's a forgiveness, a softness amongst all the stark dead images. Lots to this.
- Log in to post comments