Sunday, April 10, 2022

“It’s Not Over Yet” by Barbara Stokes

Late winter green promises made across cold hard ground

The murmur of a rumoured storm in some unknown distant land

Coming at us slowly, water lapping on the shore

Covering pebbled beaches erasing footprints left in sand

Surrounding us, soaking our summer sandals then faster in crashing waves

Waves with no water turning us over

Pulling us down to drown

Gasping for air struggling to reach a surface that is gone

Celebrations once marked our time in happy company 

Now ebb and fall away

Leaving no space for exhilaration

Only the breath of crackling agony

No joy in waking 

Every day the drum beat of anxiety follows our feet

Bathed in strange strangled quiet, the people retreat

Fox families capture city streets 

In the places we once loved to laugh and promenade, sirens never cease

Way back there, we listened to arias on balconies 

and the 7 p.m. call to arms

Banging pots and pans to herald frontline heroes

 Their last post our saving grace

A prayer for ancient sailors tossed into the sea 

They sink without a trace

We look away from the mirror that reflects our ugly face

That year with no hope

We asked, when will it be over

No, not now … no .. now?

That was the year with no hope

But now…?

We thought by now it would be over


Barbara Stokes wrote “It’s Not Over Yet” based on a prompt from Brian Henry’s online Creative Writing class. Her essay “Stones and Clouds” was published in February on the Quick Brown Fox blog. Barbara is now tackling a crime thriller loosely based on something that happened to someone in Saskatchewan. Barbara lives in Burlington, Ontario.

See Brian Henry’s upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and weekend retreats here.

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