The parsnip soup was delicate yet strong..
Here the flavour lingers on my tongue
We had chopped fruit and ice cream in a tub
All I need is he whom I still love.
I need to be caressed but not too much
I shall beat off strangers with a crutch
For women are no longer victims of strong men
Hear my words and write them with a pen
Before a year had passed I lost our child
No longer newly weds on the Church aisle
No longer pure and innocent and free
In love with death for God has tortured me
I am not Job my bloody sheets agree
I’ll not beg for mercy , hear my plea
O dangerous cliffs I’ll wander with the wild
For God has killed my heart and now my child.
St Margaret’s Bay,the lighthouse,the green grass
,The Kentish light,the avenues of glass
See across the Channel where they hide
Drowning migrants rolling on the tide.
Who are they,we say in cruel tone ?
Jesus lived in Bethlehem, not Rome
Higher climbs the butterfly in sun .
Disappearing, burnt to Kingdom come