by Robin A Spicer
Thursday, June 26, 2003
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I have led an interesting life. One day I'll write it all down. For the moment this will suffice.
I watch the sun as it slowly goes down
And think of the life I have led.
As I gaze at the stark and sunburnt ground,
The memories swim in my head.
That time, I was nine I crouched on the floor.
Locked in a room, I lay curled up in fear,
As pounding fists tried to open the door
The sound of gunshots all I could hear.
Across the street they came in by twos
The blindfolds hiding their faces
The orders were given, the bullets were loose
Another two then took their places.
Christmas eve all those years ago
On the London to Midland line.
Ninety-three died, I fell in the snow.
Fifteen were classmates of mine.
I sat in a bar in an Asian town
Watching the world fall around me.
The bar disappeared a satchel was thrown.
For a short while I just couldn’t see.
Weightlessness, falling straight to the ground,
The rotors were all shot to hell
The rending of branches I heard a bell sound.
Sinking into a deep dark well.
I sat on cliff, about halfway down,
Spoke softly to a mother and child.
Threw themselves off, I saw them drown.
A senseless act that drove me wild.
I also remember those happier times
When I delivered a beautiful child.
Forgot for a while humanity’s crimes
This baby of mine, so gentle and mild.
A lady who loved me so long ago
My heart with love she did fill.
I see her each day her smile and her glow,
And I know that she loves me still.
My children at play their screams of pure joy
The smell of warm bread, the scent of fresh rain,
A wide-open road as I ride my new toy.
These are the things that would lessen the pain.
And yet late at night as I lay in my bed
As I struggle for sleep to claim me,
Visions of death still swim in my head,
And faces of friends march before me.