Frankie Quinn with a poem from his expansive body of work.
On A Cliff's Edge
If he were to stumble and fall
Will the light catch his breath?
Will the wind toss his hair?
From side to side, or blow it straight
In his face so tears become ice frozen
Pearls on his face?
♞♜♝
On a cliff’s edge,
sharp stone
Pillars point toward wild dreams
Coloured by hard rain on cut cheeks
Outstretched arms of bewildered boy
He rests his head on the breeze
Which steals him away to the warmth.
♞♜♝
Don’t look up! No one there to call out STOP!
Or touch the patched-out eyes enflamed with pain
Black out the blue below each wrist
Emptiness befriends him on a beach in winter
No coloured towels or squeaky rubber toys
Mothers push into bags full of love for boys.
♞♜♝
When you are bad you are bad, you are not allowed
To be sad
♞♜♝
He stepped out walked with the clouds
No permission to scream. Shut your mouth! Don’t
Blame us, you told us you were fine
⏩ Frankie Quinn is a former republican prisoner who is now a community activist. He is the author of Open Gates, a book of poetry.
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