Spring 2020
With strictly silent streets and roads,
The city is remote…
Sliced by a sullen railway line
that never moves…
And whilst the spinning globe
is plagued, obsessed with viruses,
A woman in a doorway
leans….blue robe slit like a curtain
at her knees…
In solo symmetry she waits…
As though for Gabriel….
Or for the ancient Pharos
to come forth.
And bring sweet benediction
to this ailing earth.
The doorway in its ancient frame
has seen it all before….
So many people came and went
through the brass handled door.
And human nature still remains….
Although…. the wilting landscape changes.
And when the onyx of night returns,
The door will close
The blinds shut down
and she will be alone.
Good-night. Good-night.
Until tomorrow comes.
Kristine Byrne May 2020. illustration K.B.