Page 48 - Contrast1988Spring
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sHoilsetodrayrkI see as the boot of a soldier hovering in midstride, its
dwaiyth, the earth it has trampled-so big and black it blots the
resembling, as it descends once more, twilight.
History is what I felt when thunder
shook the jungle, and rattled branches lost leaves as rattled
men lost hope;
what I felt when days of bitter rain
Were followed by days of bitter rain.
Despair was what I felt, hemmed in by the dark
shadows that strangled the jungle and feebly straggling hope.
And despair is what I still feel, whenever it seems day
is hurling into the night, collapsing with a sound like thunder,
rushing so quickly it doesn't even stop at twilight.
Michael Ten),
44
Contrast Spring 1988
