Thousands marching, I’m so small, strangers surrounding me

The wind is hot. The air is dusty.  My teary eyes cannot see


Afraid I’d lost you in the crowd.  Please don’t let me cry

Strangling noises, a crush of bodies.  Is this my last goodbye?


My brother found me. Don’t let me go, you are heaven sent

Back to mum and dad, and sisters, I’m snug inside your tent


Why is this once familiar landscape now a foreign land?

What is this message for me that I must understand?


By the church, mosque, temple, we’re safe here together

Giving me comfort and protection, they’ll never say never


With me, sheltering from the storm, peaceful in bed

Treasured by my family; no more words need be said





Hanging by a thread; I watch the spider build her web.

I shuffle slowly as I tap my stick; hear it clear my way,

Head bent down, my eyes on the tortured pavement,

I nudge the high wall beside me; I must not fall again


Streetlamp shadows change the patterns of my path. 

Streams of cars, vans, bikes and buses, shoot past,

And dare me to cross the road, as I stumble along,

Invisible, as they blithely glide to their destination


The spider weaves on.  I see the wriggling hapless fly.

I did escape a reckoning in the snare when I fell before.

I turn, doddering on the pavement, back to my home.

Take care!  Safe, at last, in my room.  I have survived.



© Christopher 2024





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