The Silence On Armistice Day







We were writing a shopping list, tapping phones to light up the time.
At 10:59 we fell silent, looked out of the window.

Heavy cloud, clearly defined though the sky also stood grey, the sombre limbs of our dead tree, the blur of bird wings chasing for food and territory, this we saw.
The pattern of rain on panes that need cleaning.
Droplets on hedge-leaves catching a light that’s rising.
It’s always this that catches me: just ordinary people, trooped out, and lost so much, just ordinary people, left at home to watch for letters, to dig into the earth, tend the vegetables, the places at the table that are waiting, waiting.
I sense all the ghosts, and nothing of vengeance; I am not too afraid to fight but this presence, this tide of loss, it tempers the need.
Civilisation seems built on bones.
So, here we are. The new bones. What will they build on us?

At 11:03 we startle, we chuckle, so lost in the moment.
Still - we will not forget.







Comments

Teresa Cypher said…
Oh my, this is extraordinary writing!! Wow, caught th44e mood and left me pensive and in awe of your writing skill. :-)
14 November 2016 at 19:28
Lisa Southard said…
Hello Teresa, and thank you :-) x
16 November 2016 at 08:02
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