She feels the pale green sunlight through the hawthorn leaves –
but May’s evening blaze is darkened for her this year.
She pauses on the path – blots her eyes with her sleeves –
her courage faltering before her labour’s done,
replaced by the slithering worm of impending fear –
her hope extinguished with the setting of the sun.
She can’t remember quite what she was looking for.
The ivy winding up the fence twists through her mind.
Every moment the vice of terror grips her more,
her courage faltering before her labour’s done –
desperate to hear some news, yet not wanting to find
her hope extinguished with the setting of the sun.
He’s been missing a night and a day. There’s no joy left.
Food is ash in her mouth, the world an empty cage.
The bright bursts of pain leave her vacant and bereft,
her courage faltering before her labour’s done.
The snaking red anguish tangles her up in rage,
her hope extinguished with the setting of the sun.
Yorkshirewoman Louise Wilford has had over 100 poems and short stories published and has won or been shortlisted for several competitions, most recently the £750 Arts Quarterly Prize and the MereFest Poetry Prize. She is currently nearing the end of a Masters degree in Creative Writing with the Open University, and is currently working on a novel inspired by The Tempest, while trying to process why the world appears to be falling apart.
Foxglove Journal 