Tuesday, 12 July 2016

Poem

Hunting through the archives on a data stick – came across this poem I wrote a few years ago.

Slip sideways into my soul almost unnoticed the world’s cry

A t-shirt thin from years of wear and washing.
Defeat sagging his shoulders.
Fat (shameful, embarrassing): no-one wants to be fat.
Sitting on the bench with his small son on his knee, his hands gentle around the child,
holding him safe,
his face held tenderly against his boy’s head;
both of them looking towards the horizon, across the inscrutable beauty of the ocean, its body of unfathomable mystery defying imagination.
At the moment I pass, the wind carries his words to me; the wisdom of his generation, father to son, the answer of his soul
for his child’s questioning. 
‘Dunno,’ he is saying.

Slip sideways into my soul almost unnoticed the world’s cry

Another day, cold and tempestuous,
the clouds tossing and the spray flying;
at the roadside,
horrified
watching the bus ticket
the wind snatched out of his hand
blow through the relentless traffic
across the road and away.
Beyond dignity, reduced to childhood
 ‘It’s not fair!’ he cries out and stamps in rage; tries desperately to thread the indifferent stream of cars and chase the wind for its prey.

Slip sideways into my soul almost unnoticed the world’s cry

Bleak morning of deluging rain
Everyone is shivering, faces like masks
As the hearse draws up
One teenage girl clutches crazy
Burying her face in his shoulder, crying out
 ‘I can’t do this! I can’t! I can’t do this!’
The anguish wraps tightly round us
like barbed wire.

Slip sideways into my soul almost unnoticed the world’s cry

I think maybe they do not feel
your quiet eyes beholding,
your listening to the voice of the world;
intent,
understanding,
taking them seriously.


Slip sideways into my soul almost unnoticed the world’s cry


© Penelope Wilcock 2008

6 comments:

gretchen said...

it's been a rough few weeks for our poor old world, hasn't it? there is nothing to do but to have watchful eyes, listening ears and prayerful hearts. thank you for this lovely poem.

Pen Wilcock said...

:0) xx

Ganeida said...

I am reminded of a book I once read on the holocaust & one image that has stayed with me for decades. As the nazis prepared to fire into the people lined behind the trenches prepared to take their bodies one father directed his young son's eyes upward to the blue of the sky & the birds flying free ~ away from the horror. Like the catch~cry*Look for the Helpers* there is still much beauty in the world, still good people, because change starts with us & how we choose.

Pen Wilcock said...

"Look for the Helpers", yes indeed! And with all their selfless courage, they still come.

Suze said...

Oh so sad and so beautiful too. Look for the beauty and the helpers and we will get through.

Pen Wilcock said...

:0) xx