We dare not risk forgetfulness,
the eyes where light has been extinguished,
the gathered limbs and shattered bones,
that hone the memory, shatter hope.
The shadows lengthen, colour fades.
What now?
The choice is ours.
This turning of the year:
forgiving fault
can we renew relationships
or, festering, lurch onward into hell?
The choice is yours, is ours, is mine…
choose life…perhaps?
Copyright Andrew Pratt 2023
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