stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 17697
    [post_author] => 16
    [post_date] => 2016-12-21 11:52:49
    [post_date_gmt] => 2016-12-21 11:52:49
    [post_content] => I sleep in dust
heaping it over
myself by the handful.

In the fire I forgot
In fear I forgot
who I was
and what.

All that is left is dust.

A crow-black, cassock-clad man
Stands squawking at passersby,
"For dust thou art
and unto dust thou shalt return."

He waves a cross over the city ruin.

At night, the crackle-comfort memory
of flames keeps me warm.
Even when ice gives the Thames
a hard shell
And the white wisped moon
looks down on me
knowing

I have no fear.

Now.

I am a beggar in the street.
I am dust on the earth.
    [post_title] => Dust thou art
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => dust-thou-art
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2016-12-21 11:57:25
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2016-12-21 11:57:25
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=17697
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
    [post_mime_type] => 
    [comment_count] => 0
    [filter] => raw
    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2016
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem was a winner in the Great Fire poetry challenge on Young Poets Network (YPN) in 2016.
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => Winner, Great Fire poetry challenge 2016
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
        )

    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 17687
            [forename] => 
            [surname] => 
            [title] => Hetty Mosforth
            [slug] => hetty-mosforth
            [content] => Hetty is a winner in the Great Fire poetry challenge on Young Poets Network
        )

)
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 17687
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => Hetty Mosforth
    [slug] => hetty-mosforth
    [content] => Hetty is a winner in the Great Fire poetry challenge on Young Poets Network
)

Dust thou art

Hetty Mosforth

I sleep in dust
heaping it over
myself by the handful.

In the fire I forgot
In fear I forgot
who I was
and what.

All that is left is dust.

A crow-black, cassock-clad man
Stands squawking at passersby,
“For dust thou art
and unto dust thou shalt return.”

He waves a cross over the city ruin.

At night, the crackle-comfort memory
of flames keeps me warm.
Even when ice gives the Thames
a hard shell
And the white wisped moon
looks down on me
knowing

I have no fear.

Now.

I am a beggar in the street.
I am dust on the earth.