A Moving Metaphor
By Anthony Wade
A long abandoned dwelling
with its blind windows
and defeated roof,
no memories left
of the loves ignited,
lives born and gone,
born anew, lost again,
of the hardships endured,
overcome, despairingly
forever returning,
now coming close
to the once far brink
of a cliff ever retreating
from the sea’s noisy gnawing
even higher, even further as storms
grow in strength, in ferocity, in frequency,
defeated by old forces
beyond Man’s experience,
hopefully not of Man’s ingenuity,
worryingly, some fear, of Man’s will.
Anthony Wade, London-born, raised by a deserted migrant Irish mother; knew poverty and prejudice. Thankfully, education, available and firmly grasped, brought university and a profession. Worked long in The Netherlands before a medical disability eventually brought him Home to his Mother’s county close to where he had spent childhood summers. Joined the local writers’ group in 2016, published his first poem in 2018, a Forward Prize nominee with poetry published in Ireland, across Britain, India, Spain, the USA, and Canada. He can’t stop writing poetry.