No survivors

No survivors

Sweetly sings the morning

A siren’s call

To the grieving

Old sailors

Waiting to sail

Mouths sewn shut

To silence the whisper

Of warnings

Pretence of interest

Is an art form

When every person

Is a potential passenger

Dependent on the manifest

Stories of loss emerge

As the ferry sails

There are no bells

It is a silent capsize

As every truth

Is overturned

With increasing regularity

People burn

In hot sun

Exposed to degradation

Naked flesh

Is no protector of modesty

Stand in line

Patience is a key

To longevity

A lie written in blood

To stem the tide

Of lost souls

Throwing themselves

Into the sea

Hoping for a miracle

Old sins washed away

Rescue me

Written in hope

On oversized tee- shirts

Run for life

Is old news

It is freedom

And right to choose

There is no vote

Or third call

No lifeboat drill

We are hope denied

The poet died

On the other side

Before the flood.