Poetry

The Aftermath

By 14th May 2010December 9th, 2019No Comments

Like a stunted tree with the roots dug up
You ceased to know your familiar ground;
No leaves can ever bloom and shed with season;
Your branches too tangled to know.

The once clear estuary of love that radiated from you
Has been filled with khaki green algae:
You, away, vulnerable to the hail of shot and shell.
Me, at home, but peppered with the fear of loss,
Imagining how you might never again be home.

Worse than the reaper it took your soul
And left in its place an empty shell;
A shell you might find on a storm wrecked beach:
Empty: fled.
Deserted, reflecting something more influential than itself if held close enough to the ear.

But like a tree battered by age and gale
As your bark splinters
And the wind gets too strong to stand,
I hope you can immerse yourself in memories
Of what you bravely endured for your vast, thankful home land.

Julia Whitehouse

Author Julia Whitehouse

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