In these times of rapid change, uncertainty and unprecedented crises people have united and divided. Today, in England, shops will begin reopening again and with them a moment in time comes to a close. With this in mind, I have been releasing a poem a day, each one my responses to the times as they unfolded- beginning right back to March as lockdown was about to begin to the present moments of anger and injustice.

This is the eighth poem in the ‘In This Time’ collection and the second half of the poems titled ‘The Window’ as my feelings toward this time change – each one marking a beginning and an ending.

The Window #2

I look out
The Window;
the portal
to the outside world.

A temptation.
And a reminder that
out of these four walls

Light spurts out
of the dark and heavy cloud,
warming the yearning face.


Cold.         Fresh.        Free.

The aftermath falls,
releasing their clutches
from the leaves and branches.

Collapsing on the floor
with their comrades.
Exploding together

with the splash
like a record scratch,
bouncing like the needle

with a breath,
an expansion,
into music.

I look
outside my window
And the storm
calms down.


The Window #1

I look 
Outside my window
And there
Is no change
I look
At the images blaring
On the screen
In the corner
It tells me of panic.
Of a crisis.
Of death lurking
In the corner
But outside
My window
The sun smiles down
And there are twittering gatherings
In the trees.
A chorus 
of sound 
and silence.