The Denouement – 3rd April 2026

~ shaun tenzenmen

From the bed,
all that’s seen is the grey spray of concrete wall
of next door
and a brief triangle of stars
in an oversaturated night sky.

Outside,
just below the bedroom window,
the plastic corrugated roof, rain-worn and sun-beaten,
rolls drips of night condensation
down into the yard.

On the bed,
a whimpering four-year-old shakes
with the news that we are all going to die.
Why you have no father;
why, one day, you too, will cease.

Along the alley,
beyond the open gate,
soldiers run in camouflage
through the garden and onwards.
A mystery that remains
over fifty years later.

On the bed again,
knowing the denouement is still making its way,
the world could still be grey.
Yet somehow, light shines from the horizon,
stitching gold into the four-year-old’s open hand.

A true story, my history, written for GloPoWriMo 2026 Day 2:
write your own poem in which you recount a childhood memory. Try to incorporate a sense of how that experience indicated to you, even then, something about the person you’d grow up to be.

Today’s Daily Stoic poem:

Deceived And Divided

We’re far too easily deceived
When our attention and time are divided
We do the straddle and never succeed
At either of the options provided

7 thoughts on “The Denouement – 3rd April 2026”

  1. The soldiers through the gate are the best image here almost as if violence as passing mystery. And the ending earns its gold because it doesn’t reach for it. The hand is open. That’s the whole difference.

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    1. Thanks Rahul 🙏

      These two memories, the understanding of what death means (my father died when I was two) and the soldiers, are very clear and I can’t help but believe that they have shaped my personality over time.

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  2. This is a stunning poem, Shaun, that transported me into your memory, such vivid descriptions: the ‘brief triangle of stars in an oversaturated night sky’ and the ‘plastic corrugated roof, rain-worn and sun-beaten’ that ‘rolls drips of night condensation down into the yard’. The camouflaged soldiers had me asking questions, a mystery indeed.

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  3. Incredible how much you retained from childhood. What you saw out that window that still lingers…Your descriptions are stunning. And you did become the poet that I sense forming in the recollection. Shaun, amazing write.

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