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--chosen-work--
Per Ardua
A rising tarmac path
puddled, by the old graves.
Naked trees; those with leaves left
barely orange.
The old church windows barred against the yobs
deserted save the buffeted drivers
shuttle ferry for our
farewell flowers.
Inside the modern block
no swish or squeal or thrust of city cars.
Dear Friends remember God's promises
Pray for our Dear Friend Departed
File in sit stand sit stand file out
our hushed respect outlives the numbing cold
the numbing service.
By fire he lived, by fire he now departs
Fire of the thumping presses
and then in the night sky where
many died but fire passed him by
And then his fire was in the heart
and in the soul
Where the strip mill was-
ragwort and open sky and a thousand ghosts
The only fire now the anger
and despair at what we have become
Dear Friends we come to claim God's promises
We shall all be changed.
We once moved the earth
stars spun round our heads
But we roared and sang in the bright morning
and in the dim evening laughed
Now here in the wet grass the blackened trees
the high rise and the shutters
Shaz luvs Dave: Park only on the Paths.
A low yew hedge marks off the garden
now the flowers marked in days,
Monday's petals browning now
This rising city will soon forget
him and his and those who died by him
The Lord was not in the Fire
which passed him by
But in the fire in the heart.
Broken walls and endless levelled buildings know
for Jack Fellowes
Lancaster Tail-gunner
RAF WW2
20.11.87