The dawn casts its shadow once more upon the front line,

Fear, licking its lips, strangles the unknown. 

Frothing and foaming, it slips under the crack in your door,

Imprints itself upon corrugated steel,

Flashes its grin in a moment of reflection

On a canal that does not sit still.

From Dorsoduro to Giardini

Perhaps six, or seven

All beady-eyed


Cloaked in suspicion.

Paralysed lies the city,

And I could not, 


At seeing history stopped with a single blow.

Murky silence fogs the land, 

And the clouds now gather overhead,

Leaving desire 


Only the church bells ring now,

Carving up an endless time,

To an empty congregation.

At once a ray urges through the blackness,

A long lost sun

A dot in the void

Refusing to be forgotten.

And just for a moment,

That splash upon agitated waters

Is not the quivering hand,

Or dropping of tears.

At once the starlings,

Teetering on roof tiles

Cast open their streaked wing

And imbue the sky with their soulful song.

At once the wisteria, 

Arm in arm to face the cold,

Bloom above pavements left dead

By a hopeless generation.

They do hope.

The candle flickers alight,

The door creaks ajar

Man shows his face

To a faceless wind.

A miraculous play

Where all the living take part

Until the curtain falls

Upon the final act

So we must fight with heart.

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