A Poem: Inspired by the Manchester Bombing.

I am a bit lost today, as are most of the people in the UK (and possibly the world). I have very little in the way of words, but I felt compelled to write a poem, so I did. It helped, and I think finding a creative outlet can be very good for you at times of such…

Yeah, there really are no words.

A Crackle In My Mind

Soggy cornflakes and half filled coffee cups,
A numbness travels through me,
then suddenly I see…
I see the horror,
the fear,
the tears…
A crackle in my mind,
the rumbling floor beneath their feet,
A smoky haze and burning heat.
It’s too late-
they are gone.
No more music now,
no more laughter.
A shattered memory of what came after.
Lost and found,
they’re scattered and scared,
people reach out; their souls bared.
Some reunited, some injured,
but some will never see the sun,
or feel rain upon their lashes…
As the buzz of children turn to ashes.
They say, ‘Look at the good, the kind, the giving!’
They say, ‘Don’t stop living,
or else the killer’s winning…’
And yes, this is true,
but to grieve is important too.
Let the tears merge with the rain,
howl and scream because of the pain.
Then be together,
as together as can be,
and let them see, let them all see…
How we, together, will shine like the sun,
becoming a strength of pure light,
remembering those who vanished in the night.


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