Poem: A Trickle of Memory

Winds howling, beat vainly, his brow
Sludge, mud; all for naught, his stride
Remorse, nor regret, awash his frown
Just transfixed, bereft of life

A man, unburdened,
Seen loves and loved passed
A man, hardened
through the sweetness of dust

A trickle of memory...

Fires raged through carnage
yet unworthy of his pain
As his eyes described to him;
All perished. Slain.

A man, subverted
to vengence, to hate
A man, too numbed
to mourn the dead

Each on he learned of,
Flashed past time
He saw each demise
with that one, inert eye

Then as he knelt by the river
To wash the last's blood
He saw his strange face
In the water's red flood

--> Home, 9:11pm, 15th November 1996

A poem about a killer, who slew everyone who impeded his vengence. After he had his revenge, and his rage subsided, he recognised not his own face.