WAITING FOR THE SAUCERS

Millennialism has always fascinated me. The idea that the world is coming to an end is as old as the world itself. I have never been seduced by the idea myself, but throughout history people have been duped. This is a poem about people who believed in something that didn't happen. 

WAITING FOR THE SAUCERS

Before dawn we were on the hill

singing hymns of celebration

confirmation this was the day

we would transcend

to our promised new lives in Heaven

The drizzle did not dampen

the gawkers and cameras did not make us falter

that came later in the full light of day

wet to the skin cold to the bone

perhaps Salvation did not beckon that February day

Conscious of my weak chest

my Mother was the first to question

in twos and threes we walked away

turned back to our earth lives

I have never felt as alive as I did on that hill

I think it wrote itself from the title downwards. This is only a rough draft. It needs time for me to discern the faults, I'm too close.

I have to leave you with Judee Sill's Enchanted Sky Machines which is about such a rescue.

Until next time.