Halloween Bride
And yet the Sun did rise again to warm a broken scene
It peered through ruined window frames where coloured glass had been
Inside, beneath a vanquished roof, before an alter, smashed
She waits in grubby gown and veil in want of dreams un-dashed
Dust that swirls upon a breeze no longer barred by doors
Settles not upon her train but rests on ruptured floors
Around about, the bones and clothes of relatives and friends
Rest in piece midst dust and rubble where they met their ends
Does she see the sun rise or the moon pass through its phases
Does she know the streets she knew are now corrupted mazes
Does she know her man was by her side to say, “I do.”
Amid the debris, one gold ring… and one discarded shoe
She doesn’t turn and doesn’t blink and doesn’t check her hair
It is as though she waits because she knows he will be there
And each and every looter - to be fair, they’re few these days
Leaves with tales of sullen maidens… and some gamma rays
Only those in special suits can wander here at will
And watch this bride stood quietly and patiently and still
But few report her presence every day of every year
And none can find a rationale for how this town is here
*
It was twenty-thirty-nine - a full moon Halloween
Which happens quite infrequently; nineteen years in between
Who would wed upon the day when Satan seeks his queen?
And who might drop an A-bomb out of spite on Halloween?
And how could such an awful scene of near obliteration
Vaporise and reappear in this remote location
In your year twenty-twenty we ‘slipped’ here from where we’d been
Upon that date that also was… a full moon Halloween
So there you have it; I her groom and she, my fated bride
Caught in the path of mankind’s wrath, yet only one survived
But every day I look into my love’s unseeing eyes
I’ve heard it said, alive or dead, no true love ever dies
*
A Geiger counter, I have none, but radiation’s had its fun
I’ll stand here with my chosen one until my time is done
But even with my crusted skin and shrivelled, wispy hair
How I wish that somehow she might know that I am there
The men in suits are here again, they come with medic’s gear
I know not what they seek or if there’s something that they fear
I do know that their visors aren’t as clear as they should be
For though I stand aside for them, they don’t acknowledge me
And when a suited man takes her so gently by the hand
I watch her tread with feeble steps but fail to understand
Why she leaves but always long before we lose the light
I rest assured that every time, she’s back before the night
But when she takes the hand of man, should that hand not be mine
Her coming and her going, I can see now, is a sign
For still she pines to be my bride and still she comes to grieve
Does she sense my presence… does she know I cannot leave?
I cannot help but hope - a full moon on All Hallows’ Eve
When such a day should next arise, I once again might breathe
And so I stand and watch her wait, till I can make her mine
On that next full moon Halloween… in twenty-thirty-nine
Copyright © Terry Flood | Year Posted 2024
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