SPEAN BRIDGE

The style of this piece is intentionally repetitive – inspired by David Peace’s ‘Red Or Dead.’ 

The focus is ‘loss’, and is loosely based on a specific moment in my life. 

Spean Bridge

I looked into her eyes. Her grey eyes. I looked into her eyes as she stood amongst us. But her grey eyes didn’t see mine. They were somewhere else. Somewhere in the past. Thinking. Remembering. Reliving.

            She stepped forward. With her daughters and son either side, she stepped forward. Still her eyes were grey, and still they didn’t see mine, as she stepped forward towards the monument.

            The vast figures were bronze; three bronze soldiers under a grey sky. Framed in the distance were the mountains. Beneath the grey sky, in front of the mountains, the three soldiers stood proud. Fighting a war. Just like he did. When he trained. When he fought.

            When he lived.

            Nobody spoke. Nobody spoke under the grey sky, beneath the bronze monument. And I looked into her eyes. Her grey eyes. And still they didn’t see mine.

            And I remembered his voice; soft and calming. His cigar-smoke smell, his firm handshake and the pride he felt in his family. And I smiled. I smiled a slight smile. Under the grey sky, beneath the bronze monument, I smiled.

            And then she saw me. Her grey eyes saw my smile. Under the grey sky, beneath the bronze monument, they saw my smile.

           And, with her daughters and son either side, with her mind remembering the past, the grey eyes smiled back.