Saturday, 4 April 2020
Orgreave Winter 19
Orgreave Winter 19
A cruel, stinging breeze
is behind me now
pushing through
the bleak lands
where battle once raged.
Crack of ice under foot
recalls the
crack of boot on ribs.
Dark water runs cold
where blood ran warm.
Tall grasses wave in time
to the beat of ancient wrongs.
Dogs run free
where once the dogs of war
were loosed.
No sign remains, no mark,
no echoes.
Tim Fellows 2019
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