The Waves that Break

Arctic-sea-ice-minimum-2018-1550x804

An ice cliff wafer slips to the sea
it cracks with hellish thunder,
like natures dementia, knowledge melting away,
sliding ever under,

it flows to an ocean of forgotten things,
things unlearned, things unheeded,
receding before our human advance,  
yielding to us that which is needed.

While Adamah is Gaia’s and ever shall be,
she merely shifts her shape.
It’s you and I that drift through her Sea,
and we’ll be the waves that break.

© Wolfgar 2019

Jean’s hands

Jean's hands c.1980 by Don McCullin born 1935

Eight fingers interlocking
rest untrembling on Jean’s cold knees,
blackened in Whitechapel grime
steadied only by each other.


Torn and bloodied claw,
once pink and curled in beautiful birth
once reaching and clutching,
no hope to cling to now.


She folds them to her face 
tears trace lines that pool in scars,
hand’s which once picked Mother flowers
now crave the dampened soil.

© Wolfgar 2019