Circle of Life

Circle of Life


A small stone
Clasped 
In my hand
Ripples
Of a life
Drifting away
Its smooth edges
Never ends
A trace of you
Lingers
As I watch you
Disappear
Our past submerged
Clay etched 
Onto my skin
I follow the sun's shadow
Among the trees
Chasing our dreams
Between the stones
Unravelling the thread
Entwined in my heart
Releasing our memories
Your soul wanders
Among the stars

Post Mortem – Bosnia

Post Mortem - Bosnia

Land, air and sea
Hand in hand
Jostling and challenging
They listen to the command.

The beat of a drum
Bellows in this strange land,
Men at arms, fighting
For another unknown cause.

Nipped in the bud,
Empty streets and deserted houses
Scattered across this strange land,
Village life surrenders
To the bickering forces,
Estranged communities
Lose faith in the diversity
Of their culture.

Confronted with hatred
They arm themselves,
Proud of their heritage and tradition,
Heroes blow one's brains
In a game of tit for tat.

Strange people walk this land,
A modern city grappling to survive
In the gunfire, collapses
As it's citizens hide away,
This strange land a platform
For these mortal coils.

Intrepid nations converse,
Battling with guilt
And an obsession with peace
The war goes on.
Confusion lending its hand
As atrocities rise,
The ultimate check-mate
In the lost years,
Ethnic cleansing and divided states
Leads to an uncomfortable triumph.

A ribbon for the loser,
A house of death for the winner.

(For Selma)

Written in 1995 when I was living in London. I had met one of UN General Rose’s personal body guards in London on several occasions who was based in Bosnia at the time. He gave me an insight of what it was like there. Apart from all the news footage of the war on our television screens, hearing from someone who was actually there made it more real and inspired me to write this poem.