O for love,
let it not come again,
and darken the bluish sky
and fill this fresh sweetness
with the unkindness of death.

O for hope,
let it not find a secret hold
and seep its way cold and dank
inside again as poison of the soul,
and eat and eat till its had its dire fill.

Hold. Hold.
Not again. NO.
The past. The past.
Let these memories rise
fresh in all of us strong until
we see afresh the love and hold
up hope with two unwavering hands
until the brooding parting clouds reveal
the warming sun in the gentle bluish sky.

 

28/5/2025