Maundy Thursday
The first is now – its last afternoon 16.24
to-be-precise
Maundy Thursday – soap sales increase – not by much
And the exaggerated footsteps bound along
Echoing a tattoo
Of meaningful direction
The clock stares away:
Seemingly the moment has grown as an empty shell
Purposes grow and need pruning to become and
re-become
The flat vision before an alter of sorts
Awaiting its truth
As we kneeling before
Watch facelessly:
The car park remains: each car poised as if ready to
launch
The evening is clicking and trawling – ever nearer
An old couple shuffle to meet their Gasemene
The waiting and the waking hours made to rest
To leave the soul
Awaiting strength:
The night the day the black the white – good evil and the
consequences
Sitting in a mammoth solitude engulfing not one man but a humanity
The bird song broke a truth
Cold silence
A new day events
Would unfurl:
The actions as we sit around – hateful: in blind self pity
We watch the clock dissolve what we have and our green
minds
Erode what we have not
For they who
And do not see
The worlds will be:
Bio
Jonathan Beale’s work has appeared regularly in Decanto,
Penwood Review, The Screech Owl, Danse Macabre, Danse Macabre du Jour,
Poetic Diversity, and also; Voices of Israel in English, MiracleEzine,
Voices of Hellenism Literary Journal, The Journal, Ink Sweat & Tears, Down
in the Dirt, The English Chicago Review, Mad Swirl, Poetry Cornwall, Ariadne’s
Thread and Bijou Poetry Review. He was commended in Decanto’s and Café writers
Poetry Competitions 2012. And is
working on a collection for Hammer and Anvil. He writes about music, art,
architecture, history, nature, science, cities, and the human condition. He currently works in mental health in
South West London. He studied philosophy at Birkbeck College London. He lives in
Surrey England.
