Tuesday, 6 September 2011

Summers, Of My Youth

The summers of my youth
merely the winters of my soul,
icicles cutting the heart to shreds
plunging with regret
daggers of doubt froze action
their sharp poison reasonating

will the stupidity be a memory
seen with welcome clarity?
like old photos covered in dust
the pain will be nostalgic.
Faces are forgotten,
locations merely strange names
drifiting in time’s mists

what skies will greet my rising
into another age of reason?
Hopefully the water won’t lap
the feet of renewed Canutes
won’t be burnt by ozone free skies
and vicious lies will be gone.
My ashes will rise into clearer air,
our struggles will have proven
that humanity can learn from pain.

1 comment:

johndwmacdonald.com said...

I have always been very moved by this poem both because it is a poignant poem and evocative and because ... I know what you mean! Blessings John


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