What will become of me ...?

What will become of me?

Of them?

Of us?

Of you who are reading this?

What will become of the blood and the bones that we hope will last when natural beauty has faded?

What will become of love not expressed, not returned, never seen the light of day? 

And love that is, that was, that basked in the shining sun?

What will become of the ones that could not be saved?

And of the ones that were plucked from the raging seas?

Winning or losing .... 

The world turns and turn we do in spinning space

And turn we must upon the perilous knife-edge of choosing

Belshazzar’s Feast

 

I set a place of forgetting at the table.

It was only after the meal that I remembered,

And then it was too late . . .

Published in Love's First Look, poems by SC Fordham (2010)

Poppy

Grown in such inhospitable ground

Petals of pity trembling in battle’s breeze

Pity for all that’s lost, for all in the grip of blind force

Pity for every soul torn, for the weight of unrelenting remorse

Distressed soil of forgotten fields your home

The earth weeping the blood in which your seed is sown

Pick the poppy, make its death your own

Wear it close to your heart, walk on

But do not look for peace

It is the shoes on your feet

Published in The Cool of the Day, poems by SC Fordham (2009)

love is setting

Love is setting like the sun

So soon to disappear into the unseen real

To sleep, to dream of requite in the deep heart of an earth

That does not feel loss

That does not know longing

That does not hold life

In Truth

How long will the night to come last?

How long will this last light remain?

Time filters what strength is left through ancient fingers 

Whilst the world waits

Watches and waits for the first flickering rays of hope

Forgetfulness

The war goes on

One long battle from fall to fallen to now

It has not stopped

The delusion of progress has not yet halted us on our march

Has not yet unveiled her lying eyes

We see through them believing the next battle won will be the last

But it is not

Each fight contains the seeds of the next sown

True remembrance flown 

Click here for a list of current armed conflicts

Extreme

As brutality deepens with each night
And we turn away
Celebrity shines a light in our faces
So we do not have to contemplate
The utterly unimaginable

Many more are carried away by evil today than yesterday
Extinguished in ways unspeakable
Forcing yet more to live on the borders of pain and insanity

A wounded heart only a wounded God can heal.

Raiment of stars

The landscape has opened up in me
Causing me to see a light
Like a full moon casting
A path of silver
Inviting us to shed yesterday
And put on tomorrow

But Sorrow stays so close
By the side of the silver path whispering
"Stay where you know, my dears, don't go"
As the wind blows gentle and strong
And the stars come out to play
To sprinkle their dust on our shadows

Ah, how late it is, how late, my love
To step into this light
But there is a lot at stake
Hurry [we have come so far!]
Let us exchange our dark robes
For a raiment of stars

elemental

fire burns to ashes
wind blows the dust
air stirs the treetops
dryness weeps for water
life passes on

sorrow and joyfulness swing together
upon tomorrow's losses

so pierced

broken through the so soft surface with the strength of steel
causing water to seep from the pool of my eyes
breaking dawn what loss will you herald?
what sorrow will you incorporate into your day?
what thread will your dusk weave through the night so as to connect my piercing with yours?
when will the so thin thread glimmer silver in the fragile morning light
be pulled so tight so as to unite us in the grief of death
and the joy of returning so transfigured?

wish

should I become old I would that my paper-thin skin glows with some sort of luminosity

They say that there is kiss

They say that there is kiss

That will cause Beauty to stir in her deep sleep

Move her head, arms, feet

Her pale cheek to flush so slightly

Under the pressure of tender lips

Eyelids to flutter, then to open

They say there is a Prince called Truth

Full of Peace

In whose veins flow liquid love

He longs to awaken Beauty

To walk with her along paths of Goodness

And birdsong

Grieving Father

Do you think that you will not see her again?

Again to fix your eyes on that so familiar form and feel the warm rush of loving ...

Form, vanished one day so suddenly into the vain thin air.

Do you think that you will not hear her again?

That the universe does not hold the sight and sound of her, reverberating outside of your remembrance?

The knowledge Love bears all things is stored in an everlasting bank for you to withdraw today.

You bore her weight in life and in death she rested on your strong shoulder, made so through fatherhood.

24 April 2014