Poem of the Month

Testament by Tina Baker

Black ink shines

on a silver nib

as time hangs.

He remembers a church of sallow stone

where bees gathered pollen from a wedding bouquet,

and white lace was caught in a tangled hedgerow,

and the virginal fear of love,

and war entwined.

He smells the stench of bloodied mud,

he hears the dying words of someones son,

and the cries of his own newborn child.

He feels the loss

and all the joy,

that was his life.