Roadside Shrine

This poem was written following a terrible accident in the first few hours of New Year's Day morning a couple of years back, which took the lives of three young men.

Tree

Deep, vicious scar, inflecting upwards to the left

Revealing creaminess beneath the brown,

Scabrous bark broken in many places,

Scratches and marks amongst dark cladding,

A trail of evidence leading backwards

Through severed wire, fallen, rusting,

Shattered fence, scattered firewood,

Harsh, thick grooves in the mud,

Grass churned, turned aside,

Black tracks, a slick on the road,

Evidence of speed and skid,

Measured and documented,

Needed for the accident report

And the inquests on these boys. 

Sharp, hard metal once embedded,

Cutting, slicing, scything its path

To leave disfigurement,

A lasting defacement. 

Now a natural grave-marker,

Arboreal cenotaph,

Supporting fading floral tributes

In shining cellophane

Marking the death-place,

Shrine for grieving relatives,

Stark warning to passing drivers. 

Early hours, New Year’s morning,

A shape shifting at the edge of the wood,

A flash of feral eyes

Reflected in main-beams,

Suddenly frightened, fleeing,

Running out, across their path

In the pitch-black night. 

Swerving, screaming, screeching,

Smashing, crashing, careering,

And a heavy, hard, bloody impact. 

A creature dashes away

Through thick undergrowth,

Escapes into open fields

And looks back, its own heart still beating.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012