Within this warped trinity
of churlish cancer, precious blood and hope galore,
we’ll be at your side, as you face down the darkness.
We’ll walk with you
as you cross the lonely plains of hurt,
whose wearisome sun shrivels your belief.
We’ll squeeze your hand
when you stare into the void,
instead of the stars…
And in the shared bond of this parlous trek,
let’s pause,
take a breath,
and give thanks for those
who brightened these paths before us,
when covid threatened to choke them shut;
we’ll remember those
whose journey’s end came too soon,
and for their sakes, we’ll walk on, until our goal is gained…
And each time the bell is rung,
a lost heart
balloons away, blue-skywards…
Ifor ap Glyn
National Poet of Wales