The Cliffs of Consolation by Stewart Stafford

The Cliffs of Consolation by Stewart Stafford

Don’t fall meekly off Life’s precipice,
With Death stamping on weak fingers,
Cling on, scream, fight the inevitable,
For gravity’s jury’s karmic reprieve.

Souls crash in the surf beneath,
The perennial tide of plankton orbs,
In effervescent flows above the bluff,
Doves flying back when the flood’s over.

If beyond salvation, down you plunge,
Assuage yourself with lifetime efforts,
All is pardoned, wiped clean in death,
A phoenix risen from bodily constraints.

© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.

The Unanswered Question By Stewart Stafford

The Unanswered Question by Stewart Stafford

Ask a body why it lies in a grave,
And no answer shall ring in your ears,
Ask the rat that squeaks like a knave,
And there is nothing to ease your fears.

See lightning’s fiery eye wink a hint,
Hear thunder belching out proud,
Hail is flicked off like lint,
Dumb as a corpse in its shroud.

Mourners do splutter and cry,
In unison or solitary grief,
Hysteria governs their reply,
Tongues pocketed by sorrow’s thief.

Only when you lay in dirt senselessly,
Do answers come out of reach,
Secrets clouded eternally,
To an owl’s shrill and wise screech.

© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.