Cranford

Unexpectedly, shockingly
the news that you were dying
came to me cold as mutton
whilst I was still in France
waiting for a ferry home.

The early morning’s sky blue sky
still blotched
with the blue/black inky clouds
of night, billowing
from a full nib dipped into water.

Then the sickness came,
the awful gut-gripped nausea
at the unjustness of it all,
then the anger, the spiteful anger
useless to an atheist like me,
left unable to beseech the heavens
with oaths and obscenities
fired towards a callous god.

So, I am left here
as the calm waves roll towards me,
edging ever closer, heaving
then meekly consumed,
beautifully composed clouds loom,
I sense I too am on a journey
steering your craft towards Valhalla,
but instead I am left here
with the rest of your sorry friends
cheated and bereft.

© Graham Sherwood  10/2017