A rampart raised against the dark
Is it now the eighth or ninth
Slow plodding day of Christmas
Over-heated indolence
The New Year rung and toasted
Fingers crossed, a better world
Than last?
When throbbing head I venture out
Mummified against the cold and bite
With layering of scarves
The day now dropping into darkness
Shops still lit and sparkling
How desperate the ringing tills
And in the Laines the lights are strung
Electric blue in filigrees
Beneath the gorgeous sky
A milky turquoise deep and rare
Then three bare trees
Silhouetted white
Bright Christmas shimmering
Perhaps an easy trick
Still, fleeting for a moment
My human heart's consoled
And a fragile rampart's raised
Against the creeping dark
2nd January 2010 Brighton, after John Burnside ' We are all building ramparts against the dark'. For Anna with love
From Jenny G, via Facebook message:
ReplyDelete"Loved your latest poem, Sally. I like the thought of bulwarks against the dark!"
That is exactly what I liked about the concept too. Suddenly in one day the dark crept in much closer. A lot of it about in the lives of our near and dear just now.
Anna: 'Beautiful poem mum, thank you"
ReplyDeleteOn my snowy journey home from the North by coach we travelled through the suburbs of Birmingham. Not attractive . But suddenly I was aware of a beautiful sight and I thought 'Sally would be able to capture this moment in a poem'. A row of trees with branches reaching up to the sky, edged in white. Like brides dressed in ermine which is apparently a symbol of purity or virginity. It was a special moment in an otherwise unpleasant day. And when I reached home I read this poem. Thank you Sally for sharing your special moment.
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