Thursday, 24 April 2014


Statistically the ambulance man told me
I should have been killed
Or buried deep under thirty foot of track,

Choked to death in the smoke
Or suffered such burning
It would have looked like
I had gone up like matches in a coal fire

Broken bones that I didn’t know existed
And blinded myself in the brightness
Of the flames which
Shone like a exploding sun in the moonlight

Certainly not walked out of the flames
In slow motion
With several children by my side
Like Jesus walking across water. 

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