Guest Author

Voice of the Martyr

Voice of the Martyr
Decrease Font Size Increase Font Size Text Size Print This Page

OH! Martyr thou remind us again

Long to listen thy, words of pain

The sky monsters as black as night

Come prowling looking for a fight.

Cradled close I can smell her

The scent of mum it soothes me over.


There’s nothing else that we can do

But lie in wait till morning’s due.

The beating of my mother’s heart

The sound of buildings ripped apart.


The whistling before the big bright flash

Holding hands we make a dash.

Lifted, twisted, we are flying

The bed is spinning where we were lying.


My ears are burning with the roar

The boom I’ve never heard before.

Floating, a moment, time holds on

And then everything is gone.


The ground erupts and swallows me

Or is it the ceiling? I can’t see.

Which way is up? I knew before

It’s dark and cold, and I am raw.


My hand mummy, we’re holding tight

Everything is going to be alright.

Don’t let me go, I need you more

You know that I am nearly four.


Dark and fire, rubble and mud

Or is it earth mixed up with blood?

I move my body, but not much,

My chin and cheek I can not touch.


I call my mum, as my face is sore

Up cuddle me from the floor.

We never let go, our fingers entwined

A greater love you’ll never find.


I need her now, I need her grace

I want her to touch my face.

I pull her hand from the floor

I have her hand and nothing more.





Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *