You clung to life
like a hunted seal on a rock,
but now your grey-blue eyes are as
faraway as Nan’s were.
Slack faced.
So tired.
The rock has become the danger.
War is rife. Soldiers swarm into your
home. Strangers lurk in the street and the
people on the TV are seeping through
but you lost your words and just
on the other side, through the veil,
where your sad eyes linger, is
safety and rest.
May the road rise to meet you,
long-lived child.
May you find peace.
May you, like your mother before you,
find your way home.
Silverstreaks 