THE DAY A TRUTH DIED by Mike Steeden

Blog mikesteeden

Identical snowflakes
A bona fide rarity?
A miracle?
Only the sage can say
And he is far away
Measuring hailstones
Bermuda she recalls

Yet here
In the frozen lands
North of nowhere
She is compelled
To tell of
To show
To someone
To anyone
Her immaculate
Inconceivable find

Fail in this
Then it never happened
No one will believe her
Save perhaps the sage
After all he is
A philosopher
More so
In his spare time
When in drink

In the wilderness
To stumble upon
Friend or foe
Indeed any anomaly
In human form at least
Is to deviate from
The rationale

Yet in the near distance
A silhouette
A running male
Giving chase
To a caribou
And losing out
Bent over
Hands on knees
Catching his breathe
He admits defeat
This time

Composure restored
He surveys
His surroundings
Identifies a girl
A girl he does not recognise
She waves
A beckoning wave
His body language
Indicative of a message
Received and understood

They meet halfway
On the milky lowland
Of nature’s own design

“What have you got there young lady?”

“Identical snowflakes…look see”

“So you have. Remarkable”

“I know. What should I do with them?”

“Squeeze your hand tightly”

“If I do that they shall melt before their time
The sage must see them before they die”

“But I have seen them. I am your witness
Besides I see they have already thawed”

With that
Her witness
Trudged off
Toward the conifers
Leaving a mosaic
Of footprints

She chose
Not to follow
She would never
Bump into
The stranger
He who could
Give testimony
Ever again

The sage
Never returned
From warmer climes

Many years later
Now an old lady
On what was to be
Her deathbed
She would tell
A patronizing nurse
All about the
The both of them

“You don’t believe me do you?
You think I’m mad”

“Of course I believe you dear…of course I do
Now take this tablet; it’ll help you sleep”

She never woke up
As such
A truth had died
It is the saddest thing
When truth is no more

Copyright © 2015-2021. All rights reserved. Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, and lending, prohibited although in a crisis I’ve no issue with any reader using the pages of said book as emergency’s loo roll.

2 Comentarios Agrega el tuyo

  1. Terveen Gill dice:

    Beautifully written.

    «Identical snowflakes
    A bona fide rarity?
    A miracle?
    Only the sage can say
    And he is far away
    Measuring hailstones»

    Love these lines. So magical. 🙂

    Me gusta

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