Poppies for those who have fallen

I headed to church this morning. The focus of the sermon was of course 'Father' but the focus of our prayers was for the lives lost and those grieving in Kensington and Chelsea. One cannot help grieve with them, even though we are distanced from the tragedy. I've spent the week listening to the stories of those who had time to phone families and friends and I find them truly heartbreaking. Here is poem that expresses everything I feel. The poets name at the bottom

Grenfell Tower
I awoke to a long smear across the sky
And there was news
of the end of the world.
I had to see.
From the top of of my own shiny tower
I saw your lives lifting to the wind
a long flight of grey-winged moths,
and I felt my own rise from a sordid corner
to beat at my lips to follow.

I want to throw stones
at the men who made you less
so that they could have more.
I want their riches stripped
in bomb-filled countries,
I want them to lose loved ones
in the crossing of great seas,
I want them to sleep ten to a flat
and take jobs that grind them to the bone
and then to face the fire that cannot be fled
to learn humility.

That to care for one is to care for all.

Last night's sunset was particularly beautiful.
Was it the dust from your bodies that made it so?
I tried to drink wine to honour you.
It was vinegar
of course.

by Alethea Lindsay