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