In the Wake of Tragedy (London: 07/07/05)
The event of tragedy blossomed,
That carnivorous wave of terror,
Caromed through the capital,
Down subways and thoroughfares,
Horrified the gaping senses
And surged through the echoing chasms,
The divides of the unholy,
And the gulfs of the unjust.
In a bleak ricocheted wake,
Left no blank resignation,
Or mere shrugging of shoulders
As if cold blooded and detached;
Evolved a unified populace
Grieving resolute and defiant,
As they arched down in reverence
In that two minute silence.
Swelled the dream iconography
Of human souls in mortal battle,
And the blood-stirring prose
Of the old past master speeches;
Fell a faint dust of resonance
Blown from reminisced prophecies,
Foretelling times when the streets
Run with rivers of blood.
Therein the wake of tragedy stung
In the mourning lungs of the living,
Feeling thorny and vibrant,
Tasting earthy and tart;
Instead of cancer and wasteland
The first blackberry roses bloomed,
In the gardens of futures
Landscaped by the past.
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
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