by Steve Tanham
It’s looking quite forlorn now
The larder shelves are bare
There’s a rocket in my kitchen
And my kitchen isn’t there
-:-
He doesn’t want the kitchen
That father carved in wood
He only wants its ruin
And the land on which it stood
-:-
My children went outside to play
And found his cluster bombs
All brightly decked with spirals
To reckon all our wrongs
-:-
He speaks another language
Not Russian – that we share
But one that more than has enough
Yet steals my very air
-:-
I was a pin upon his map
A million of us were
But now the dust above the ground
Is all the wind can bear
-:-
There’s a rocket in my kitchen
And my kitchen isn’t there
Nor my children nor my father
There’s just remembering air
-:-
So breathe me and absorb these words
Remember what we were
And hold our home and family
Within a heart not scared to care.
-:-
©Copyright Stephen Tanham, 2022
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.
http://www.thesilenteye.co.uk and http://www.suningemini.blog
Sun in Gemini 
Great poetry x x
Sent from my iPhone
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Thank you, Giselle x
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A wonderful tribute, Steve… a great pity that it was necessary…
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Thank you, Ladies… yes, so devastatingly sad, and cruel.
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🕊🕊
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Reblogged this on anitadawesauthor.com.
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Indeed, a sad poem that hits hard. I think I may have seen the image in the media that inspired it.
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Thank, Michael. At least the consciousness extends to them…
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Heartfelt poem
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Thank you, Tanvir
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The earth is crying. (K)
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Yes…
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“There’s just remembering air.”
This is exquisite. Beautiful work.
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Thank you, Gail 😊
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If only these words weren’t needed.
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Yes, Ken. A sadness so deep.. Thank you
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