photographs left on a windowsill.
That’s the hope. The numbers will
blur, the weeks will drain of detail
and colour and I will be left with
outlines and vague shapes, glimpses
of faces in the washed-out clouds,
voices speaking through the hiss.
But I’ll remember the constant dread
every time the radio cut to a bulletin,
how the cruelty of those in charge was
too obvious to ignore. I’ll remember
watching the trees bloom with wonder,
asking myself how beauty could still
emerge around us. I’ll remember the sun
stroking our faces despite everything,
warming us before starting on the slow
obliteration, over-exposing our thoughts.
Final prompt was “What Will you Remember?” from AmyKayPoetry. I’ve tried to avoid writing directly about the crisis as thousands have said many wise and helpful things. With this prompt, it felt appropriate to address it.
I’m done! Thanks for all your support in this