The day after that man killed Jo Cox by Jackie Biggs

I ate strawberries

for breakfast,

because they were fat

and red

and ready with the sweetness of joy.

 

I walked to the top of the hill

and saw the sea, grey and cold,

but breathing, below,

all the while

on its incoming tide over endless sands,

rolling always and forever.

 

I sat on a seat

in the sun

and emptied my mind,

watched the waves —

sheets of steel

rolling on.

 

I listened to Bach played on guitar,

massive concertos

pitching

in six stunning strings.

 

I spoke to a young woman,

who I had known when she was a girl,

and we talked about her glorious baby,

due soon,

on some happy day.

 

I bought a new novel,

to read later …

That anticipation

that it is there,

the words waiting,

for me

when I am ready,

sometime,

this summer.

 

I picked herbs from the garden –

mint and parsley,

and watched the cat rolling

in the catnip,

quite off her face.

 

I saw the swallows

scything over the fat meadow,

gathering feed

for their young;

 

and I thought of life,

this life,

how we

have to keep breathing,

over our own endless sands.

 

I sent you a text,

on a pretext,

just to make sure

that you were there,

still there.

 

And I read a poem

on Facebook,

by a friend who said,

we have to do this,

because

however bad the world is

there is love

and light

and you can’t take that away

from us.

 

And I wrote new poetry,

about love,

because that is

all there is.

 

Love, love, love …

3 thoughts on “The day after that man killed Jo Cox by Jackie Biggs

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