EMPTY SPACES. Dedicated to Dot (Dorothy) and Harry Mordey.

POEMS OFTEN BREW WITHIN ME FOR DAYS, SOMETIMES WEEKS, AND ESPECIALLY WHEN I AM WALKING ON CARNINGLI.

THEN, SOMETIMES, THEY COME TO THE BOIL.

THIS ONE IS MADE TODAY, FOLLOWING THE NEWS OF THE DEATH OF AN AUNT.

COVID 19 HAS, THUS FAR, TAKEN THE LIVES OF WELL OVER 2.5 MILLION PEOPLE.

STALIN IS OFTEN QUOTED AS HAVING SAID ” 1 DEATH IS A TRAGEDY. A MILLION DEATHS IS A STATISTIC.”

THIS POEM IS FOR EVERYONE WHO HAS SUFFERED LOSS – DIRECTLY OR OTHERWISE – TO THE RAVAGES OF THE PANDEMIC… MOTHERS, FATHERS, BROTHERS, SISTERS, CHILDREN, GRANDPARENTS, UNCLES, AUNTS, FRIENDS.

please remember them

Across the world,

Empty spaces…

A silhouette no longer framed on the Savannah

In Wyoming, a horse remains unsaddled

Red dirt unbroken in a Senegalese plot

A Russian doll that won’t be dissembled

A Spanish hacienda deserted

An Italian meal untasted

In Japan a temple flag is unobserved

An ice hole, unfished

A desert tent, entrance unused

A rice field abandoned

A new crop not to be harvested

A quilt unfinished

Families, diminished.

The favoured seat in the pub abandoned now.

A classic car, unfired.

A paddle board beached.

Knitting unravelled.

A tractor untended.

A camera shuttered.

A guitar untuned.

A song unsung.

A bed unmade.

A bycicle rusting.

A dog forlorn.

A doll abandoned.

A spinning wheel, not turning.

A pen no longer picked up.

A spade, rusting in a cobwebbed greenhouse.

A boat, sails stowed, bobs alone on the estuary.

Clothes are folded away, no longer needed.

Books, never to be read

Dreams unfulfilled

Puzzles that no longer perplex

Letters never sent

An empty seat in a synagogue

An empty pew in the Chapel

A prayer mat in the mosque stays folded

The graveyards fat with memories.

Grass grows untended

A tweed jacket hangs forlorn

Flowers fail

Broken items that would have been mended

A driving lesson not given

A telephone call no longer to be expected

Empty beds

Empty sofas

Empty rooms

Empty wardrobes

Empty chairs

Loved ones lost

To everyone

Everywhere

“I feel the past and the future pressing so hard on either side that there’s no room for the present at all.” (Brideshead Revisited)


One Comment on “EMPTY SPACES. Dedicated to Dot (Dorothy) and Harry Mordey.”

  1. Susanna Capon says:

    You evoke the sense of loss we are all feeling with great delicacy. We are indeed in difficult times

    Like


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