Some dark and soft deliverance, this is,
To resolve one’s Gods existence with a gun.
Dammartin-en-Goëlle: an unforgiving
Wind leaves many strewn in fits and gusts.
A cold front has been drawing for some time:
We felt a change. They knew that it would come.
For all the fine forgiveness that there is,
We can’t absolve, prop up, or save what’s done:
Instead we windswept must sweep up the living,
Faiths to faithlessness, and dust to dusts.
The horror and inhumanity of the acts which have in recent days defiled Paris – defiled acts in themselves, self-defeating, crass, remorseless and unmerciful – have so entirely focused our minds that we begin to apprehend inchoate threats. We begin to fear for escalation, repercussions and the changes that we can see and feel even now. Fear returns to us, in fits and starts, one headline at a time. We will lose sight of any bigger picture. We will lose sight of what hope and fortitude we do have. But it is our role and our duty to live in hope, for us all. For now, we must bear this in mind, and mourn for those who lost their lives and their families, and not for our freedoms which shall – and must – live on.