Walking The Dog

I woke on Friday morning with a jolting 'No!' It sucked the air from my lungs as the sleepy fog in my brain was suddenly blown away by the words on the radio. I listened and watched and read with tears flowing down my face, as my coffee grew cold and I felt ashamed to be human.  I cried again when I called my child to hurry up because we were going out and I gasped for a moment as I thought about those homes where children wouldn't be hurried any more because their bodies lay broken. And I wept at the thought of silence in those empty homes. Where are the words to describe what happened in Nice? No word, in any language, is powerful enough, shocking enough or stripped-down-honest enough to describe those utterly disgusting and simply appalling events. No words. Just the feelings in our gut; the choking tears and the sadness that wants to turn to rage but can't because again the wind is torn from our sails and our sails are tattered rags fluttering on a beach and...

Remember me Help for Heroes http://www.helpforheroes.org.uk/ This poem in its rambling fractured style is meant to reflect the mood and memories of a wounded soldier of unspecified age and unspecified war. I once asked a youthful love to remember me. To remember me in every minute of her day. I made a promise to remember her.  Did she remember me? Does anyone remember me? Cry out "I remember!" if you do. And in remembering, remember 'us' too. I remember 'us' in my waking and my sleeping I remember 'us' in every minute of my day. That 'us.'  That band of thrown together 'us' - Our friendships forged in foreign land. Across ground rent by battle our torn feet fell, in foul mire slipping; seeking Silence. And escape from hell. Faith destroyed, we lost our way - forgot to stop; forgot to pray. Shivering, we lay, shattered - shot through with seering pain. And exhausted...