Belfast Time

12 Lines

This poem is entered in "The Writer's Cramp" . The prompt is to write a Coronach poem and pick Death as one of the genres.

Belfast Time

Spirit clings to last explosive breath
grief too close to hold
movement prematurely enshrined in stone
Belfast Blood still runs, though cold

On Ireland's Protestant and Catholic war torn street
to pause amid whispers and some prayers
Destiny clings to draining warmth
Body gasps, futile search for sacred air

The way to be remembered
Doesn't much matter in the end
Forgive the time in tatters and troubles
Never to know a kinder, truer friend