Following the terror of last week, some words came to me during a morning walk.
Warm sun cloaks my shoulders, through the trees a soft breeze whispers and birdsong cheers my heavy heart. In between dark shadows a brightness shines. Miles away twenty-two roses cut, their beauty still and silent mourning. Balloons stand tall swishing and swaying over a desolate, florid sea. A blast so strong, so deadly A hatred so deep A mission so bloody. Tearing at the heart of society. Swelling inside, a loss too painful to mention. Falling tears, wordless incomprehension. Through the dark smoke, the hand of a stranger reaches. Amongst the screams, a gentle voice soothing, questioning. People, taxis, uniforms, organisation among chaos. You tore open our hearts And out flowed the light. And, tomorrow, As the roses wilt and wither Balloons deflate and sorrow lingers, the dawn chorus ever lilting, sweet, high amongst the trees. Still growing at their roots, the flowers and weeds. The memories will fade over the hours and days and pain in our hearts will remain. Yet still, the sun will warm our shoulders and shine. Yet, still there will be light amongst the shadows.