Breakfast.
At sunrise I drew a sharp breath...Beauty..!
The sky...the painted sky swings light across the sea.
I try to improve my posture at the sink...hold up and in
....slouching is not good.
But oh look
The sun has now turned red ..the Irish sea smiles back
And the kettle boils to say ...look at me ..hot me...hot kettle ..me.
Green tea swims in the strawberry mug
The days and years I crossed that Irish sea...there and back
Turbulent sea..turbulent heart
Breaking in me.
Oh stop that news radio...have you nothing more heartening to impart.
The yellow yoke oozes into the slice of toasted rye..
The news goes on
A Kenyan Mother escapes from a window
Clutching her son
But the armed rebel throws him back in
Into the inferno...to burn ...to burn...
I am now disturbed..
....that blood red dawn sky...hot hot
Burning the sea ..poor child
The mother...
Women of Troy ..the weeping will not go away...even
At the dawn of another day.
Kristine Byrne..27th Oct. 2012