The news gradually filtered through last Thursday of the loss of MH17, blown apart in the sky, high over Eastern Ukraine , carrying 298 people. There were no survivors.

 Since then recriminations, claim and counter claim, have been made. I will not add to it. Enough to offer the words below, written that Thursday afternoon and on the following Friday morning.

 May they rest in the peace of the Lord

(i)     Consequence

                         Scattered in fields

lay the torn and broken memories

of short-lived lives.

Argument and intent

         are questioned

beyond the haze of smoke

as small, spot-fires burn

through a tangled, shattered frame.

        A bag and book thrown clear

remain in soft grass by a pathway,

orphaned.

                         A small oasis

          in a place of utter grief.

(ii)    Late afternoon

This is not a neutral space,

This debris-strewn dark land

open under a vast pitiless sky,

                                      where

in Passage from West to East

they passed.

                       until

An impact moment came.

Serenity was torn to shreds

in violence.

                  Myriad fragments

twisted, burnt-black, formless

                                 fell to earth.                      

Irredeemably lost.

It is quiet here now,

just the sound of rain

falling on grassland

in this distant place.

 END