Ice Will/Can’t Suffice
Our fireplace offers us its warmth,
but chill descends on all who mourn
the loss of innocence, of life.
We struggle to respond to strife, to heal, to love.
Oh, Paris, blood spilt in your streets
in several spots where friends may meet
to share the ending of the day–
there hope has died where bodies lay, at hatred’s feet.
Stark cold, such evil steals our dreams.
Faith falters at the sound of screams.
Our hearth is cool, now drowned by tears.
Can good prevail when ruled by fear? How to forgive?
Yet, deep within our souls we know—
in sorrow, seeds of grace may grow.
Such wickedness must not succeed.
Rekindle fire our world does plead—the fire of love.
Written for Gayle’s prompt at dVerse Poets’ Meeting the Bar, where we are to write a poem using the Florette. Rhyme: AABA, Syllable Count, 8, 8, 8, 12. In line 4 syllable 8 rhymes with the ending syllable of the 3rd line. Try it–it’s fun.
I suspect I am not alone in needing somehow to write of the horrible events of last week.
The title of the poem comes from Robert Frost’s Poem “Fire and Ice.”