Another PTSD poem - written while recovering in Munich. Daily walks in the Westpark through a though winter were a great source of inspiration.
Another PTSD poem - written while recovering in Munich. Daily walks in the Westpark through a though winter were a great source of inspiration.
by Patrick Howse21 Aug 2013
I
Whenever sleep is required, But resisted,
The baby is bundled
And pushed through the park.
Mistletoe explodes
In bare branches
Loudly proclaiming
Life will not be denied
Even as it quietly
Kills its host.
II
Snow changes everything.
Etched in dense lead white
Laden trees emphasise
Squirrel rust-red,
Crow black.
The path fell in last night’s blizzard.
III
A Blackbird alarm betrays fear:
It shouldn’t be this scared
Of man, of baby,
Of track-side bush;
Breath escapes with the flash
Of mottled grey
Sparrowhawk gripping,
Tearing life
From straining breast,
Escaping through
A final choked-off complaint
And hint of yellow beak.
IV
Up the hill
Wheels clog, lock
And sledge through surface whiteness
To thick woodland mud beneath.
The nascent thaw
Is cruel:
A hard frost,
Then more snow,
Would be kinder.