With her warmth so reassuring

With her warmth so reassuring

The touch of her soft hair tickling my skin

Each breath,

The rise and fall so gentle

As she sleeps,

A miracle of wonders.

Even the bleakest of days have meaning,

When she wakes

Protesting she had never dozed,

Eyes just closed

As she lay, in repose.

It was just my imagination I suppose.

Nuzzled gently, into my lap

We chew the fat,

Complete a crossword,

Sharing out the clues

And count our blessings.

Images of dead children

Drowned in silence

Victims of greed

And insurrection,

Litter the coffee table.

Family holiday hot spots

Reduced to dead zones.

The sadness we feel is real,

It could have been any one of us

But for the accident of birth.

Why do people forget that?

We share the sadness

Of other more personal tragedy,

Empathise with the unbearable

Heavyhearted, weightlessness.

And remember how it was

To stumble through the void,

Lost in the emptiness of survival.

Are we complicit, to share such outrage

In the comparative comfort

Of our own lives,

Safe in the knowledge

That all things being equal,

The terrors that haunt

The dark regions of our minds

Will not be freshly washed

Upon our shore,

Unless once more,

Life’s harshest horrors

Come to greet us.