Lost Shadows

 

Shadows were lost
like horses lost at
the end of a painting.

 

Shadows were lost
at the top of an hill
like a debt of honour.

 

Paradise lost.

 

Death soiled.

 

Unbroken.

 

Shadows were lost
across trenches
treasuring the sun
unbroken
without speaking its name.

 

Unbroken
without telling the full story
and unbroken
in it’s judgement
as the picture
looks at you again
without tying up loose ends
where shadows followed you
once like servants. 

 

 

 

(NB. Done at a workshop on 20/04/2011 at Olgas with Steve Garside and Rachel Bond also present. The title is from a poem by Anthony Owen of the same name which can be found in his book 'My father's eyes were blue' - My poem is somewhat different of course!)