Too Much Blue

During my career in social housing, the work I loved best was helping the homeless.  Sadly, domestic violence was all too often the cause.  And Christmas was a bad time to be on the street with nowhere to go…

 

TOO MUCH BLUE

Paul Beech

 

Her unborn kicks as weary she rests on a frozen bench in a bleak northern town.

Seven hours have passed since she fled his fists with naught but the babe in her womb, the clothes on her back and a small knotted bundle.  Seven hours of bus after bus, caring not where she went, only to pile up the miles behind her.  He mustn’t find her.  Must never find her.

The darkening clouds have a purple tinge, a sure sign of snow.  Strangers hurry by; crows croak in a foreign tongue.  Across the road, outside the Town Hall, garishly lit with coloured lights, stands a Christmas tree.

A headscarf bobs before her.  A withered hand points to a door.  A modest side-door with a department sign outside.   Her unborn kicks.  Then stiffly she rises, bundle in hand.

Too much blue, she thinks, crossing.  Too much blue.

O for a splash of gold…

 

~~

 

Copyright © Paul Beech 2013

[Previously posted on Linkedin and the author’s own blog, Grandy’s Landing.]

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Maureen Weldon
    Dec 14, 2014 @ 12:09:03

    It has taken me a good ten minutes after reading Paul Beech’s wonderful poem “Too Much Blue” Taken me ten minutes to leave a reply, simply because the poem is so sad and unfortunately so true.

    Maureen Weldon

    Reply

  2. Paul Beech
    Dec 15, 2014 @ 00:30:32

    Thanks, Maureen. As you say, sad but true. So many harrowing cases…

    Passing through that modest side-door, though, my domestic violence victim would have found capable officers ready to help…

    Yours,

    Paul

    Reply

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