Preface:
Was it all took a speech?
Then there were the threats, then there were the deaths.
…
Was it all due to S. P memorial?
14 day ago…
“Drop drop’ red rain sliding,
In the back street during his morning walk.
Father Ian paced steadily, it was a grey morning,
early November.
Imagined dialogues
Occur in mind,
a rendezvous with himself
Hauled suddenly from solitude,
'How now,' Father Ian addressed the empty hall
Counting there, 9 times knives
Attacked marks, smelling of burning anger.
This was how the school hides indiscriminate ******.
“Fight fight?” against blue pallor,
Of hell, and not the fiery part.
'Knives knives,' Father Ian mocked with an Atlas shrug,
'Don't I warn you to stop those ridiculous fables.
In silence, they come alive,
Of dusted harps or gnawing fear: Simply tells
'What mission?', questioned from Father Ian,
“Mind as the host, what just epilogue
Would these too hollow to be chased?’
What flawed earth-flesh could cause this saddened pass?
'There sits no higher court
Than man's transparent soul’.
Attack, Attack, shocked, Father Ian cried
'Can‘t they run and hide, to get inside
Like a last storm-crossed leaf? Best ghost swore to the priest:
Why again knives, carried at Paris and Nice?
Dedicated to a set of serial terrorist stablings in France, 2020
