Communicator (communicator) wrote,
Communicator
communicator

St Martin's Day

I've posted this poem before, but I have reworked it a little. I have three issues or reservations about it. I am not sure whether 'infinite mercy' is too much of a cliche that it sounds like nothing. A more serious thought is whether it is OK to write about a person, to sort of cannibalise someone else's tragedy to make a poem. And finally I am not sure whether I should try to expunge all pretentious references from my poems, even though my own thoughts are pretentious.

St Martin's Day by the way is the 11th November, the day of Remembrance, and a day of the dead going further back.

St Martin's Day

Her son was dead
In a police station
He took his own life
Many years before

Her eyes focussed on emptiness
Seeing the eyeless room
In which he died

I told her god has infinite mercy
I know, she said, that
He is barred from grace
In the brick walls of a police station

Take me to that place she said
Admit me to his cell
She thought his spirit
Would leach out of the walls
Into her body
And she could walk out with his soul
Entangled in her flesh

Like Orpheus from Hades
Dragging Eurydice
Inanna from the underworld
Who rises through the soil
With all the foetal souls clinging to her
Shackled by suicides
A chain of sons
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