Sunday, 24 January 2010

A poem in memory to those in Haiti

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The risks are very high writing poetry but it's there in the soul. The chances are that few will ever read this. penned at a time of strife.

Thought of this today when I read some of the stories of those trapped in Haiti. Thought back to those days in Malawi and seeing the dying. May they rest in peace.

He’s arrived

January 2008 

A light crept in through the open door;
Lilting sounds wafted into my hiding place.

The cold tear of sweat ran down my back.
My breath rasped out of my terrified body. 

Then there in the doorway stood the nemesis.
No running hare from a savage beast.
No broken heart of a lover’s wailing anguish.
No haunted last look of a mother losing her child,
Could ever recognise my awful dread. 

Here stalked death demanding, nay expecting my pathetic being.
I stood from hiding place.
I leaned forward and placed a trembling hand on an arched chair back.
He did not bother to look my way.
He was quite calm and patient.
He knew I would come. 

My little boy’s laughter haunted my head.
What would he be told? A mad father? 
A tortured soul who knew only hate?
Or would he be comforted that deep in the heart of insanity lay his hope?
Fear bid me farewell and I entered Hell with a smile. 

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