walk down the passageway
journey into darkling gloom
accompanied by names
slowly read, persistent
insistent with each step
another and another
and always one more
a hundred, a thousand
tens of thousands
and still the names roll on
into the dark for days, weeks
turn a corner into the black
enter the glass labyrinth
surrounded by pin-***** lights
by the hundred, by the thousand
by the myriads of thousands
five small flames
reflected and reflecting
and reflected ever more
in remembrance
of the children

a million and a half
shot, starved, gassed, burnt
the diabolical villainy
the evil of the camps
of the planners and designers
of the builders and profiteers
of the guards and politicians
and of those who looked away
and still the names roll on
insistent and persistent
into the dark for days, weeks
a hundred, a thousand
tens of thousands
hundreds of thousands
the children
dead

walk down pathways
into the **** zones
of kibbutz and concert field
to burial grounds and memorials
or between the piles of rubble
once houses and flats
shops and mosques
hospitals and schools
now carrying the stench
of death, the un-buried
beneath shattered concrete
by the hundred, the thousand
though not yet the million
no-one reading their names
no memorial disturbingly peaceful
but still it's the children
their deaths, each death
an evil chosen, consummated
by the planners and strategists
by the zealots and profiteers
by the military and politicians
and by those who look away
the children
always the children
forever the children
dead

holocausts
each and every one
of humanity
of hope

lies, **** lies and statistics
they used to say ...... but

now it's lies, **** lies, president and politicians
social media barons and propaganda
alternative truths normalised

trust lies on its death-bed
poisoned
sacrificed for power

alternatively ........

round waterlily,  

fragile holding above surface,  

dancing with the light.

All those nights
I spent alone
tangled in thought
wrapped in
winter dreaming
my breath against
the sky of
vivid blue
snow falling
like a ballet
so gracefully
on the pines
every scene
a painted picture
inside my mind
these are the
precious things
I know I will
find you here
you and your
beautiful lines
amongst the
soft blue mist
I pretend that
I am free …
Clay.M