When
this war’s over, when the birds come back to sing,
I’ll
draw you close again in the velvet evening,
I’ll
sit you down in front of me, part straight your hair,
braid
in strings of jasmines, breathe in the perfumed air.
The
sulphur smells of anguish and mushrooming smoke
from
the rigs and pits and lives of shattered folk,
rows
of half size coffins, waiting by half size graves,
rise
and ebb as the tides, advance, recede in waves.
When
the war’s over and the nightingales are back
to
replace the sirens and the endless air attacks,
in
the inner courtyard dusks will gather and still
you
and I’ll sit together in the sea-blue chill.
The
sky’s a long range missile, Earth’s a long dispute
and
all metals forged and sharpened to point and shoot,
all
ships are sunken wrecks not one to the rescue,
the
tides – all they do is crash over me and you.
When
it’s finished and the earth’s taken back all things
and
made them whole again – the hills and squares and springs,
I’ll
take out your grandmother’s comb and run it slow
like
a prayer through your hair as the sunset glows.
The
sky’s a dragon’s breath, the town’s potential rubble,
a
few men in uniform march out on the double,
the
grass is scorched black, the trees stripped of foliage.
Our
eyes tire of alerts, our nerves are taut, on edge.
When
it’s over – they say both the good and bad must pass,
I’ll
sit and watch you run again on new spring-grown grass,
shirt
untucked at your waist, hair loosened from your braid,
your
face lit with laughter, your footsteps unafraid.
I guess its quite obvious where that's come from. It goes on for a few more stanzas, but I will spare you, it's long enough as it is :)
I've been a bit stressed - there are friends stuck in the ME who are waiting to be repatriated and even more bad news - some friends who can't be airlifted anywhere because that's their only home. All bad things must also pass, but it doesn't look like the Iran war is ending very soon. Bahrain in particular is super vulnerable because it's very close to Iran and because of the presence of the fifth fleet. The locality in Bahrain where my husband worked has been attacked, 30 plus people injured, some quite seriously. Not personally known to me, yet it all feels terribly close and personal. Every morning I wake up hoping it's been called off but no, it's still on. Every day brings more distressing news, the ambit getting wider. Les misérables all round.
I was/am also planning to do the upcoming A-Z Challenge and this is my advance warning post for that. I'd originally thought I'd do the theme reveal with this, but that feels entirely inappropriate given my general unprepared and somewhat frazzled state. I'm booked to travel during the Easter break too, which of course is looking fraught with uncertainty by the bucketful right now. Travel times also coincide with the Challenge key dates, apart from coinciding with the #$%*&^ war I mean. So...though I intend to write themed posts, I am keeping things fluid for the present. I'll see what I can do and how...I'm going to be there is all I'm saying as of now.
I hope your near and dear ones are all safe and well and nowhere within range of any missiles.
