Dear Readers

I wish to explain this poem.  It is not about suicide or self harm.  It is not about me.  It was written about the death of king on the battlefield in the middle ages.  The pictures that come from this for me are powerful and dark, but not of that nature.   Annie.

Salvation

Around, all around, the memories gather

My joy grows, as the hand of fate

Falls against my naked soul

It smites me, and warmly, my essence slips

To the wicked earth that is my prison

In rising wonder, I call your name

While oblivion surrounds me

My words fall upon unhearing ears

Around, all around, the mourners gather

The stroke of death falls against my heart

It wounds me, and darkly my life’s blood drips

To the heaped, despairing leaves

In my desire and hope, I raise my eyes to heaven

While the end looms

Now released, my soul falls upon eternity

This is my salvation

© Ann Bagnall 2015.