Saturday, 4 June 2011

Silent Scream

Sirens screeching ever closer
strike a chill into the cool calm night,
shattering peaceful sleeping
as speeding vehicles stream past.

Neighbours glued to television sets
tut impatiently turning volume up
drawing curtains tight as if
to block out the ill of this night.

They are talking but she cannot hear
blood trickles slowly down
a stream of drowned emotions
as they shake their heads.

When they pull the blanket over
few words are said, not a case
of too late more compounded mistake
nobody heard her silent scream.

Finally free from her hollow
shell world the smiling mask
slipped off once more, after
her skull struck the stone floor.

Gently they carry her out
she is not there, she had already
crossed beyond the silver stream
running free as she had always dreamed.

This was not how she had planned
to leave but now in this place
where he could not follow, maybe
it had been her final chance for peace.

8 comments:

  1. Oh God! I just happened to be listening to Harry Christophers 'The Sixteen' singing "The Lamb" as I read this poem. I had, a couple of months ago written a short poem based on this piece of music written by Sir John Taverner because it so reflected the ups and downs of life; it was a poem with hope and optimism at it's core... your poem, here resonates, perversely, with a similar feeling. how can that be? It's a very powerful poem, Abi.

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  2. A spurt of hope in all the chaos, wonderful piece. "smiling mask" great line.

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  3. Sobering account of a tragic ending to what sounded like a tragic life. I found it very effective, how you describe what's going on in the neighborhood while all this is unfolding. Victoria

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  4. One of my pet peeves: when people hide from what's going on right outside their own windows. You paint this drama in deft strokes. I wish for an afterlife because of tragedies like this.

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  5. dang...sobering...i am happy she has freedom...sick, but i wish it would have been he...

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  6. How very sad, yet how powerful these images are!And how terrifying that we do so often pull that blanket over our ears so that we cannot hear the suffering of others. A think piece you wrote here, Abi. Wonderful!

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  7. A sad, tragic tale. You penned it well.

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  8. Great expression of something so sad and real. It's been like that for a long time.

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