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
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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