Nature Being Symbolic Of Death
in this morning’s world, offers no escape.
Written on the day Ukraine was invaded –
pic: my own
Dawn’s clinging mist
smells of cordite this morning
thick as pease pudding…damp as an
army-issue blanket!
As bullrush reeds
scratch grave markings on retina
frost-bitten catkins, budding too early
hang drowned and dripping like
rain soaked wreaths
Those rooks too
in pairs, zigzagging over the lake
are they searching for corpses in
half-submerged trenches?
Witches will haunt walkers
intent on escape, torment brains
trying to find rest; today there is no
calming respite!
Today, only emptiness
creeps round land in near focus
cramping old bones inflamed by ache
Beauty has been murdered
again this night!
Now a pocket torch sun
like hope, ever rising, sometimes fading
is simulating the break-through rescuer
despairingly awaited…
Goth:2022
Well said, Trevor. A metaphor more symbolic to our self-induced destruction of our planet than the invasion of Ukraine, methinks, but equally forceful in the condemnation of any aggressive interventions.
Best, Luigi.
Thank you, Luigi! Sorry for the delay in answering, been away all day. Yes, on re-readng, most of it could well apply to a much wider, environmental problem facing humanity, would well suit the purpose.
Good to be back with everything on even keel again, as it should be. I hope others return and thrive too now.
I hope you and yours are keeping well wrapped up, and nice and cosy in spite of the fuel crisis.
Cheers, Trevor