Afterglow
They have died.
The wind learnt it,
that knowing old breeze that blows, now and then,
all blue sky and soft air.
I wonder if I could have acted against it,
stopped it in its tracks...
Perhaps if I'd been as sure as the floor,
or stared at its eye
as it spread cheatingly through the skin;
or during the day,
if I'd cupped my hands,
I believe I could have beguiled the chair,
the worn seat and the smoothed back.
But it has ended.
It's all used up.
There is no doubting the wind
extending her cold hands through shaken tress.
A pea-green bird labors up,
full-winged like an emerald,
staring his eyes into bleach-white clouds.
In the window a curtain breathes calmly,
swaying knowingly.
The dinner plates have been cleared, and the sun
accustomed to everything else,
goes all the way down.
by Tony Wilson - Author
I read this poem over and over and discovered something new each time. There are so many great lines - ‘perhaps if I had been as sure as the floor', ‘that knowing old breeze that blows, now and then' and the amazing final line ‘the sun accustomed to everything else/goes all the way down'.
The poem highlights both the hopelessness many of us feel in the battle against cancer, and also death's place in nature. Terrific writing.
