Silent Faces
Faces of time that do not tick,
numbered and silent,
they look out at passing lives
reflected in high prices.
I walk past a saviour
fallen in a woman’s arms
the doors of his house
no home to a discarded soul.
Lost like dropped gloves,
thrown butts and fallen leaves.
An invisible face survives,
another night, cold sleep,
card on stone,
as shadows of lives pass by.
Ciaran Burke
Change is hard, a truth carved in stone ordained by God and written with quill on scrolls and parchments centuries old commandments […]
On waking I would stretchthen listen to clues while hopingin the curtained roomthe light blinded out for sleepingthere was a life outsidewind […]
The road rambles into the decline,
One way to go, nowhere else to be.
The fresh water hurries to meet the sand, to wash with it to the sea.
Golden stretch in stone green embrace beneath a blanket of grey,
Torn to reveal a flash of blue,
and a golden promise behind the hill.
Spires reaching in bloom finding heaven in the light rooted in the deposits of earth fed by the detritus of the dead […]
