It all looks so different today,
that smoking charcoal block,
now pale, swathed in creamy
covers rippling in the breeze.
At the top, the banner of green:
Grenfell Forever in Our Hearts.
The words descend in silence,
stirring memories of that night.
The flames filled our screens,
as they raced up to the roof,
out of reach of the ladders
and the hoses, roaring across
that carriageway of cladding.
Past all the families trapped –
parents pleading to be saved.
Crying their loving goodbyes.
That iconic tower of tragedy
stands cool and cordoned off.
The boards below list the lost,
messages of raw grief mingle
with fierce demands for justice.
Piles of wilting flowers form
a tribute to the seventy-two,
Symbols of all that’s wrong.
And will the inquiry put it right,
be brave and lay the blame,
unveil the dark, stark truth?
Or turn into another tangle of
dashed hopes and loop holes.
Its Conclusions qualified, clad
in caveats and comfy clichés.
Another creamy cover-up.
