WW2 BLACKOUT... "CHINK OF LIGHT..."

Chink Of Light

One lamp switched on.

A low-wattage bulb.

A candle on bolted, grey steel,

The flame reflected on a metal table:

The Morrison shelter,

Where mother laid our meagre meal.

There was a reluctance

To chat or to converse,

Listening for sirens and the fearful drone

Of approaching bombers:

Hitler’s aerial attack

On England, so isolated, alone.

A sudden rapping on

The solid oak portal

Then bellows of “Open this door!”

A warden challenged,

Parents sighed, quite shocked and

Serviettes tumbled to the floor.

Mr Joyce strode past mother,

Heading for my outraged dad;

Accusing him, “…a chink of light

Through the blackout cloth…”

Mom’s eyes welled tears

But protested that she’d put it right…

The gloating warden, in his stride,

Demanded the respirators,

“To check the boxes and masks…”

Father recoiled and clenched his fists, 

Mom’s hand went to his arm,

Whispering, “Let’s just do as he asks.”

The adult masks were fortunately folded,

Pristine, scrupulously clean,

Ready for immediate use;

The warden grumbled, murmured and mumbled, 

Finding nothing adverse:

For tarrying he had no excuse.

We hoped and prayed he wouldn’t report

Our minuscule glint, 

That sliver of light,

Which could have alerted

Those cruel German pilots

And the Luftwaffe’s awesome might…

Pete Ray

Some air-raid wardens took things a little too far…