No More than a Whisper… #Poetry

Image by Pedro Figueras from Pixabay

I awoke after nine days in Heaven
Screaming, where is my body
I am no more than a whisper, a puff of smoke
Is no one here to answer me?
My voice, sailing back to ears I cannot feel
Yet the sound penetrated
the part of me that was mind
What dark trick is this?
A new sound entered, bells ringing
Reminding me of Sunday mornings
Walking to church my vision returned
Letting me see the road I stood on
A church in the near distance
People entering the large arched doors
There, I hoped to receive some answers
I couldn’t tell if I walked or floated
Once inside I felt temper mixed with despair
I stood alone in my smoky form
Where had they gone?
Is the church a gateway to another realm?
If so, why have I been left standing here?
I waited until I heard the church bells rind again
Finding myself outside
The street empty, yet familiar
Walking towards the house I grew up in
I was swept up by the family
My family, rushing out to answer the call to prayer
Sat in the pew between my father and mother
My sister and younger brother on the outer edge
Ready to drop our tithe into the waiting plate
With the clang of coin against brass
The smoke holding my body vanished
Had my sins been paid for by the love of family?

©anitadawes 2020

Time Slip… #Poetry

Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay

On my way to Balham High Street
I stood with my back to Barclays Bank
Opposite the train station
In the middle, the public toilets.
The light changed colour, darker than usual
The air stopped as if sucked by a vacuum
Sound muffled, something told me to run
Behind me, came a loud bang.
The bus turning where I had stood moments before
Vanished into the hole that once was the public toilet
One of Hitlers bombs had dropped.
Had my life been spared by a whisper inside my head?
Later that week, I found a library article
With a photo of a bus tipped into a hole
Whose footsteps had I been standing in?

©anitadawes 2020