Bonfire One, 2015-1016
written by: Mike Bell
I am wobbly walking home some late o’clock
a trespassed short-cut over dampened grass
through this estate of town-planned care
No roads paths only to lamp-lit porches
as cars sit misted, braked on verges
The street light’s spill a dry amber pool
me sense-struck by the waft of cuttings
I am re-routed indirect by a solitary tree
it’s stillness shocked split by a pigeon’s clap
disturbed by my standing or my breathing?
The momentary effect combined then leading
to my old flight to Israel picked fruits sun-browned
lawn-fronted homes of sprinkler’s ticker-sound
Same lives parked people air-conditioned
sat lamp-lit the sole indication
of life struck by us flighted but never leaving.
It is not what I am paid to do
It requires a daily commitment
I cannot complete a crossword, but I will attempt to complete verse complexities
My children will need something to fill the vacuum we all create
These words help me to cry out, cry, and work out why
If I make someone respond, then I will have lived a life worthy of a life.