Spring Death

The sun caught the shy violet, shedding

light on them, as they appeared like 

sapphires in the grass and gorse and

gave joy to the slow journeying.


They smiled at the swift, flying swallow

retuned to a cold and frightened land,

as it dipped and darted, diving for flies

while the fearing folk stayed in doors.


Slowly the spears of azure and pink

unfurled their bells and rang out for

the first Spring in history where nature

is free to frolic, and flower and fly.


Indoors the tears run liberally down

the faces of the grieving, gathered 

alone or on a screen,

where silently

they show shock

and sadness of their


losses. In hospital no one journeys

alone to death,

the NHS sees that they are comforted

but others wait at home, solitary,

silently, wanting December back again.

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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