In the darkest times

Touched by tragedy - unexpected and extreme - these are days of reflection and questions.


I write poetry  in times of crisis but my thoughts were spiralling rather than rippling.






Years chunk in termly increments:

Not racing,

timely intervals

were measured and routine.

Each step forward marked in 

landmarks and milestones,

Mine and the many.

The pathway deviated: 

the motorway momentum

broke 

not to winding ways, 

laybys and passing places

nor to dead ends.

Winding up. 

Track made travels trace 

their passage by eye-line. 

The days of ease and simplicity 

are now shrouded in the daze of 

the harsh unevery day light of

Ultra-violence.

The cry in crisis.