My friends tell me they can see the sea
from their window.
Closer is harder, they say; in sight is in mind.
From my window, if I wipe it,
I see the other side of the cut through,
barred windows breaking up the brick facade.
I have never seen that nest before,
broken twigs, dropped feathers.
I back away from the window.
I do not want to frighten hope.

After the thunderburst

Only eagles and adult kites could ride out these winds; and the kites with difficulty. The sparrows, prey, remain motionless beneath palm fronds, an occasional shiver and shuffle of feathers betraying their location. Slower than it had arrived with a thunderburst, the rain slows and stops, the wind calms and in the sudden silence birdsong begins to rise again. Now, before the heat sweeps back in, or the southern storm once more, now is the time to find peace, or make peace, or rest, simply rest.

In the deepest corner

In the deepest corner of his heart – and he had a very deep heart, as his future life would show – he found the tiniest ember of heroism. He found it and breathed softly on it and it grew and grew until it filled his heart and the flames began to dance behind his eyes and he stood up and said ‘I will. I’ll do it’. And though there was no one else there in the room in the house in the street somehow others heard from him and took heart from his courage and from that moment the tide was turned. It was not over but we knew one day it would be. And that is why we are here to remember.