Poet's Corner

Poem of the month

Halt this disgrace of disgraces

Your prisons

cannot hold

Gold grace of our truth

Handcuffs are for hands

You are up against rivers

Under the owl’s wing

Bone branch in white

As secret as our
roiling tide

Coming for rancid men

How many horrors must we bear?

More than we can count; less than you may forget

I made your shield

From the pieces of my back

Halt this disgrace of disgraces

Against this bale of darkness, rest now

Before battle for paper and place

Our trenches will one day be gardens

Wisterias fed on blood

Rest now, my friend, young soldier

Your rage is a flower

I hold in my hand

As red rose to rifle.

(The poet is the author of the bestselling 'Last Song of Dusk', among others. His new memoir 'Loss' will be released later this year.)

Each month, Poet’s Corner will choose one poem to highlight. Write to us at [e-mail]