Lament

I peel the onion
-did she like onions?-
greenish-white, translucent, familiar.
I slice layer after layer,
packed tight like cause and consequence,
like bolts in a bomb.
What possibilities were packed in her,
what hopes, what understanding
of her place in life?
Such a small place.
Who can know
what dreams she might have lived into reality
-did she finish her library book?-
The relentless round of meals rolls on
without her: little Saffie’s dead.

 

tRuth 2017

This poem is in memory of Saffie Rose Roussos, aged 8, the youngest victim of the Manchester Arena bombing of 22nd May 2017.  But it could stand for so many others killed by violence, all over the world.