10 October 2008

Something that I can't get out of my head

Some days, although we cannot pray, a prayer
Utters itself. So a woman will lift
Her head from the sieve of her hands and stare
At the minim sung by a tree, a sudden gift.

Some nights, although we are faithless, the truth
Enters our hearts, that small familiar pain.
Then a man will stand stock still, hearing his youth
In the distant latin chanting of a train.

Pray for us now, Grade 1 piano scales
Console the lodger looking out across
A Midlands town, then dusk and someone calls
A child's name as though they named their loss.

Darkness outside: Inside the radio's prayer
Rockall, Malin, Dogger, Finisterre

[Carol Anne Duffy]

1 comment:

  1. Beautiful, thanks for sharing. I love Carol Ann Duffy.


Penny for your thoughts? :)