Troubles in the North again.
The cleric plays his games
A confused world watches, not really understanding
Why can’t they resolve this peacefully?
The night air lies heavy,
Fires on the horizon a constant reminder:
Is this why we are really here?
The constant, soothing rumble of generators
Punctuated by staccato thumps.
A moment of doubt – is it friendly?
Power cut. Another email gone.
More concerned faces.
What is the latest news,
Will we be safe?
What can I tell them.
What can I tell those so close, so far away.
Soon to be home.
A streak across the darkened heavens
Captures the eye, freezing the soul
Until it fades too fast, too silent.
Another plane lifts skyward
Its precious cargo
Wishing
God speed
A silent walk home in the warm, cooling, night wind.
Too awake to sleep, to late to hear that voice.
Retreat to the gym at 4AM then creep to bed
Climbing silently, looking up silently at the one I love.
Another full day counted down.
Another razor changed, two tablets taken,
Three weeks by that reckoning.
The separation hits home as I read my post again,
Tales from home so distant but ever present.
Soon to be home.
(C) Philip Ralph Johnston
Aug 2004
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Time, Another Place
