Installation by Karen Underwood, ‘Broken Dreams’


Fruit on the tree
Turns to ash
And spirals
Slow and graceful
on the morning air
settles on bent shoulders
the silver powder
of broken dreams

The hand flicks
the coat-sleeve
Plants another sapling
in the turf of faith
Wonder as it grows
Deny as it withers
Dismiss as it dies
Then move on easy

Damp roots preserved
Under the dust
Of memory
We fan the embers 
Of hope long gone
For a moment
Cold smoke
Chokes the lungs

A thousand 
shades of grey
Dance in the air
Carpet the ground
Strange beauty
At the end of dreams
Says we managed to hope
All this, for a while

And when our spirits 
Ride the ash 
of earthly dreams
To heaven
Ideals may not be
Among the trash 
We’re asked to leave 
Outside the door

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