A train passed, at a slow speed,
through iced waters.
It could have taken minutes
or maybe days.
The crushing sound of my doubt,
the unnecessary beauty,
push the march backwards.
Blessed be the stones. So many
are thrown at us from above.
A thousand years of anger in one place.
The graveyard is now in bloom.
Bread-flowers are shooting upwards.
My defeated words, stronger than my weapon.
(Poem published in ‘Stride’ magazine, available here)
Thank you, Rupert Loydell!