In a mere hundred years
One Saturday morning
The memorial to you will drip from night's last icy shower
People riding on the tram
Will discuss their love prospects
What bargains they seek in January sales
Football
One, sitting in silence
Might catch a glimpse of a pigeon resting
On the head of the cross
And wonder who carved the names into the stone
Whose names did they carve
What was it all really about?
~
n.b. Total combined losses were estimated this week to have exceeded two million lives. And still it goes on.
CLP 31/01/2026
Journey of Words 