Hand In The Fire
Suddenly, decisions came and left us built on sand.
I remain, the aching song that longs for stable ground.
Subtract, divide; a simple equation takes time for the eyes to see.
Warm without a breath of wind, like grace pulling on the ropes of mercy.
Remember that day, when you danced under that perfect white sky. The
music was your pulse and it coursed through your anxious veins
Black and white photographs etched on the mind slowly blurring, losing clarity.
Hand in the fire, the blood red fire, and burns don’t heal easily.
Call a ceasefire, I blame this cenotaph in a hidden place.
Never apoligise, never explain, but at least me see your face.
This was once a beautiful word, now a sentence that doesn’t quite fit.