Time of Night

Midnight, the shadows creep in;

An ancient darkness, an evil sin,

Stalking across, in shades of grey,

As dusk settles, the end of the day:

The light cannot exist without dark;

Birdsong ceasing, sleep for the lark,

As the denizens of the night prepare,

For their dominion, a land of fear;

Moonlight falling on gravestones,

Beneath the earth, the restless bones,

Far from blessed hallowed ground,

Silent these years, made no sound;

Deep in the cellars, buried deep,

Bones with a secret still to keep;

They do not sleep easily this night,

Buried so deep, so far from the light,

Children's teeth, bones sawn, burnt;

The unseen hand, lessons unlearnt,

Of a time of night, an evil cradling,

Now revealed, perhaps unfolding;

The poor child, whispers a voice,

That never lived to make its choice;

May this be heard, so soft a sound,

Once buried deeply, underground.

Notes:

A poem on Haut de La Garenne, and the tragedy unfolding there.