Rising.
We kissed
by the crumbling church
to the early morning birdsongs
rising from the cedar tree,
before I walked home
to Sunday morning
beneath the old railway bridge.
I woke up later just to happily paint
the skies green and fields blue.
With a ceasefire apparent
from the silence of the polarising
voices that fought meaningless
mob wars over my paltry brain.
A reverse rage cooked inside me—
I served it with love
and a scoop of ice cream,
ready to savour the taste
like an unexpected gift
that I was finally ready to share.
Gwil James Thomas is a poet, novelist and inept musician. He lives in his home town of Bristol, England but has also lived in London, Brighton and Spain. He has worked as a labourer, dishwasher, aeroplane cleaner, chef, news article archivist and product sales demonstrator. He is the author of eighteen chapbooks of poetry and his second poetry collection The P45 Power Ballad was recently published by Yellow King Press. He is part English, part Welsh and part wolf. IG: @gwiljamesthomas
