burning for justice

the weather, today

overcast, with a high chance

of riots and rain

 

dark clouds, gathering

tall towers and tipping points

enemies within

 

cities, simmering

angry hearts of righteous men

burning for justice

 

behind closed doors, committees

talk damage limitation

 

© Gail Foster 16th June 2017

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Guilt and Shame in the Market Place

*

The sun bore down on the Market Cross, where Guilt and Shame were sat

Guilt was clad in a penitent’s rags, and Shame wore a dunce’s hat

The steps were strewn with sticks and stones, and faggots had been lit

And smoke rose up to the pinnacles where shadows of psychopomps sit

“It was you,” said Guilt to Shame, “‘twas you, that brought us to this place”

Shame hung her head as her cheek bled red from the whip of the flame on her face

“‘Tis maybe true,” said she to Guilt, “for I was ever this

Destined to burn in the Market Place for the sake of a stolen kiss”

Guilt fell silent, angry tongues flicking ire in the light of his eye

“‘Twas you as well, my love,” she said, “who brought us here to die”

Then she fell silent too, as snakes of flame hissed in her hair

And the stench of smoking human flesh pervaded the summer air

Above the Cross the sun bore down, and the wheels of justice turned

Guilt and Shame in the Market Place; by terrible passion burned

© Gail Foster 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Strange Simony

 

St. Cuthbert's Island

 

For Good Friday

 

Another man

Another plan

Hung on a

Godforsaken tree

One dread kiss

And then

Was this

Eternal calumny

How bitter

Seems the glitter

Of dark silver

Simony

No shining glory

In this story

Just shame

And death

For all to see

In the daylight

And with hindsight

Could not there

Light and mercy be

For it was writ

This would be it

That all these things

Would come to be

The portrayal

Of his betrayal

Haunts our own

Humanity

No kudos

For poor Judas

Only lonely

Ignominy

 

by Gail

 

 

 

 

 

 

Assize Matters

IMG_3159 - Copy

A Fairy Tale

*

Once upon a time there was a grand historical building, in the centre of a small but beautiful Wiltshire town, called the Assize Court. For many years the processes of law were carried out within the stern Bath stone walls of the court, and many folk were sentenced in the dock.  Some walked under the Ionic pillars to freedom, some to death and some to endless captivity.  All human drama was there.  Tears were spilt, reputations were ruined and children were left fatherless.  Justice was seen to be done.  But then one day, as is the way of things, it became obsolete; the last sentence was delivered, and the doors were closed.  It stood, slowly decaying, for year upon year; a strange symbol of dereliction in the beating heart of the town.  And now, and then, good folk devoted much energy to finding new hope and purpose for the building.  Nothing came to pass.  The people were met by brick walls and stonewalling.  The people gave up the fight.  It crumbled.  Years, and yet more years, passed.  Good folk tried again.  No joy.  More brick walls and stone walling.  It crumbled.  Again, passionate people rallied, and tried to make sense of it.  Again, brick walls and stonewalling.  It crumbled.  Until, one day, it had crumbled beyond all hope.  At which point the land was used to build houses and offices.  And yea, verily, as some had prophesied, someone made a large pot of gold.  And lived happily ever after.

*

by Gail