Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality and writes hoping to find an audience for her musings. She was shortlisted in the Theatre Cloud ‘War Poetry for Today’ competition and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and a Rhysling Award. Her poetry has appeared in many publications including: Apogee, Firewords, Capsule Stories, Light Journal and So It Goes. Find Lynn at: https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com and https://www.facebook.com/Lynn-White-Poetry-1603675983213077/
United We Fall
The bodies are piling up again as past becomes present again. victims and survivors united by innocence, by grief by failure, failure to protect, failure to police, the failure of lawmakers, the elected and electors. All of them failed. And now we cry out, we victims who survived you failed us failed us failed us. Even the dead whisper an echo that only the deaf will hear.
If my book could speak I wonder what it would say to me. I don’t mean about the words inside, I’m reading them for myself, but about it’s life outside those written words, its independent life, its thoughts and dreams, its own imaginings that fill its days and nights. What a conversation we would have!
The evening light was sepia when I looked upwards like an old photograph and slightly misty like an old photograph of undeveloped technique. But that was looking upwards. Down below the sepia darkened turning brown as primeval mud in a frightful ancient swamp. Not a place to sit and contemplate the sepia of the fading light with the foreground blackening, becoming yet more dense in the fading light becoming a place to hurry through not a place to sit and contemplate the changes of the fading light.