Saviour

I sit in the dark 

salved by the quiet hum

of a 3am night, 

I feel no pain as

coarse spilt words 

pile up haphazardly 

at my feet but 

smoother sounds

cocoon the sharps

to somehow keep the peace,

under this dull timbre

I try to remember poets

writers, musicians, lovers

but can’t think of any, 

it’s as if I’m required

 to write a sentence 

that will save the world,

somewhere a child

is being born

elsewhere an old man dies

somewhere a murder

otherwhere a suicide fails,

I sit in the dark

bleeding fingers 

now holding the words

that will change the world

and I wonder who to tell

*

© Graham Sherwood 06/2020