Archive for December 18th, 2021

Saturday, 18 December 2021

Grenfell by Olga Dermott-Bond

We are throwing our children
out of windows.
Knotted bedsheets are falling
and we are
wrapped in choking blankets
high in this tower—
before this moment
muffled important men
ticked each blind box
sat on their cold hands
covered their ears
kept their distance
reclined in chairs the colour
of expensive coffee
climbed inside airy committees
insulated themselves in
someone else’s bureaucracy
flimsy as the lids on their drinks
that they abandoned
after the meetings
on budget cuts
leaving us groping
in the darkness of these thin-
lipped walls
and now the stairs are
crumbling coals
and we are faltering
on the edge
of these burning cliffs
that we wanted to call home.
We are throwing our children
out of windows
feeling for the last time
those hot desperate hands
that first cradled our little fingers
as their own
starry universe.
We are pulling them
from our sobbing
necks and reaching as far out
from the molten frames
as we can
our arms stretched taut and flat as a fledging’s neck
trembling with our most precious selves
who are falling
so suddenly
as we are letting them go
into the darkness
ripping our histories
in two.
We are fighting every instinct
and crying to strangers to
catch them
catch them
catch them
We are praying
that someone
will one day love them
as we are loving them.
We are throwing our children
out of windows.
Before this moment
muffled important men—
but perhaps now
it will be harder to
ignore the messages
written tomorrow morning
in the curled ashes
at their feet.


Date: 2017

By: Olga Dermott-Bond (19??- )