Poem of the Month

‘The Highway of Death’ by Selwyn Morgan

Birds glide south, on winds that rise

above Al-Jahra Plain.

With summer lost to the Earth’s tilt chill

and autumn’s hurry-up rain.

Each pass of time, a pendulum’s swing,

each beat a repeat of the eagle’s wing.

***

A Caravan trod north on sands that cloth

the vast Al-Jahra Plain,

its season lost to men possessed,

and those who would avenge… again…And now,

each bird that passed was a man-made thing,

each olive dropped came with a sting.

***

The travellers heard those silver birds

scouring Al-Jahra Plain;

whose screech announced that after all,

the day, for them, would end in pain.

Each flight of birds was a godless whim,

each mission flown with a devil’s grin.

***

Napalm fixed, scorched skulls smile wide,

set within Al-Jahra Plain;

as feathered birds soar up, and up,

their preferred height to gain.

A fond ‘God Bless!’, the smiles suggest,

to the birds’ transition at Times’ behest… and yet…

***

In times gone by I’d stood there, in a culvert, gazing up,

as eagles flew high, their course sustained,

by the winds of Al-Jahra Plain.

A spiral flight on thermals tight,

they’d vanish at great height… And I was

privileged to see that sight… But now…?

***

The man-made birds, with stoops so brief,

have change my fond memories into tableaus of grief… Yet, still…

***

Birds glide south, on winds that rise

above Al-Jahra Plain.

Their summer lost to the Earth’s tilt chill

and autumn’s hurry-up rain.