top of page


Beneath the great oak lays the raven.

Life no longer, body contorted,

About, strewn feathers pulled during the struggle.

This aftermath, a grim reminiscence.

Surrounding, the unkindness calls in dismay,

Sanctity disrupted.

I, mere witness, breathe a prayer.

And beyond, the church bell rings seven times; calling me to return.

The eyes of many are upon me.

There is sadness, there is grief,

And there is anger.

Felon absconded; I fulfil the role.

Blame etched into memory,

A face that takes their own.

They will never forget this,

Nor I them.


bottom of page