That evening the sun was slanting out the crosses
when time dissolved, nerves of colours woke
blending me with the leaves, grass and mosses …
and then I saw it move, I swear, the soil moved –
a face emerged, moon-white, rose slowly, spoke:
‘We live here so alone, cut off from love.
For Christ’s sake bless us so that we may rise
from this no-man’s-land of separation –
lead us, together, into paradise.’
My heart knotted as I told him he must wait
in darkness till the final resurrection;
and still I see his face sinking to the fate
that blights my sleep, where scratching dreams express
my daily boxing in of loneliness.

Supported by Arts Council England