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Run Fast Keep Low “My prayer for My son”
Eleanor Broaders began writing poetry in her teens and found this talent really helped her to cope with her experiences when her son Kevin went away on operations in Iraq, Kosovo and Afghanistan.
The nightmare came unannounced. Smokey figures in corners, ready to pounce. Childhood prayers stumbled from my lips.
Words, half remembered, staggered and tripped Through consciousness now, as the darkness unfolded My courage returned and I endeavoured to hold it.
I am holding time, in the silent night.
You are folding time on your outward flight. Your dawn will come, 4 hours before mine. With an IED blast or an engine whine. Through the fraught night, we silently tread, And your prayers and mine, in tandem are said.
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