For August I have chosen three poems taken from John Saunders’ collection ‘After the Accident.’


I open the door gently
revealing the dusty space;
the stillness of the past.

Rummaging in the half dark
I stumble over boxes of
clothes, sheets, blankets,

un-played-with toys,
a cot. The evidence of life
trapped in a loft.

I ease out of the space
careful to close the door
leaving the ghost behind.


I have not walked the Great Wall of China
and looked over its back at the vastness of Mongolia

or climbed the Statue of Liberty
and viewed from her crown the sadness of her city.

I have not scaled Ramesses at Luxor
and marvelled from his lap at the colossal structure,

nor stepped the weathered stones to the Acropolis
and looked into the minds of the ancient philosophers.

What I have done is looked into your brown eyes
and soared high into the endless skies,

listened to your words of love in my ears
and heard the wisdom of a thousand years,

felt your warm touch against my hand
and dreamt of great journeys across the land.


Somewhere a face is falling
into a cradle of cupped hands.

A single tear is inching over
the scalded cheek of a sad face.

A voice is overcrowding
the anguished ear of a listener.

The load of the sky is pressing
down on a hunched shoulder.

Somewhere else a window has opened
to draw in generous air.

An affectionate breeze is blowing
to dry tearful eyes.

A welcome silence has calmed
a fretful mind.

A light has begun to shine.
Just enough light to see.

Copyright © John Saunders 2009
All rights reserved
The author has asserted her/his right under Section 77
of the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988
to be identified as the author of this work