Black Sunday

The day once joyful, is filled with death and gloom Limp, stricken souls drift from room to room. The walls themselves sway and wilt with terror From the experience and proximity, of horror. The gentle, flowing stream now no longer sings It sobs and sighs on its’ way past tangled limbs. The bridge is frozen, and silent, holding its’ breath Over the crying, choking, wretched waters beneath. The rain is falling steadily, mingling with my tears And the wind howls in the trees, echoing my fears. The sadness, like icicles, cuts deep into my heart For the wee small soul, who today, did depart. The evening creeps across, shrouded in desolate finality And an eerie light, attempts to cover the cold reality. The stifling blackness descends over my agonised soul As the night closes in around me, to take its’ toll. The clock ticks, constantly, though time seems not to pass As this mournful moment is, fixed, forever, in that glass. The senses are muted, blind eyes, blank and far away And deaf ears, ringing with the sounds of yesterday. The pain, Oh the suffering, the endless guilt and the shame From now on, and forever, all things will not be the same. The question hangs, timeless in the air, in everybody’s mind Why…, why…, why…? Where the answer to find? IJR 13/06/04 For the boy who died and was found 11:30AM, drowned in the Mersey.