a poem by Rani Turton, France

In our todays yesterday looms large
The present isn’t the past;
In other words, the past is still omnipresent
Steering sometimes unskillfully like a barge
Sometimes disaster looms
Unannounced, uncalled for;
A wreck that lies on a shore.

The saddest of songs and the most ancient of wrongs
Can bring on the tears;
We are all equal before our fears.

Today has the faint tinge of bitterness
Tomorrow will come, with the steepest of slopes
To climb, to pause, to think
That you can stumble on the brink:
Just believe that in life, something is taken
Something is given
All is forgiven: tomorrow will come
That the gift of words that you have
Will remain articulate: you will inspire
Like the tallest of spires
Your words will remain in many hearts
Just believe, you are not forgotten
Not by man or deity or life begotten
Words of consequence and comfort
And love and life will come back again.

Copyright: Rani Turton

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