Ancient
Some days start with difficulty the aching
of my bones through the night unrelenting
worries roam interrupting shallow sleep
these times invade the darkness of my peace.
Progressives dissolve into prancing parody
eyes no longer on the ball
no honesty just the need to win
there is no distinction here, no pride
voices reduced to a numbing incoherence
overused words and a worn out score.
Meanwhile the crying of the people
lie unheard echoing unanswered
there seems no shame in this bickering
dressing it up as something different.
Even a blind man could see or hear
something important, something vital
has been lost, has been forsaken.
And there is that unending emptiness
watching the dance of a prattling clown
and the gesticulations of a puppet mouthing
over rehearsed words and tired phrases
but who is who and which is which?
And so we are left with that odd echoing
a Welsh word “didoreth” comes to mind
I feel like closing the door on this silliness
but I worry for my children’s future
and all those children struggling out there
and they deserve so much better
something, someone far, far, better.
Than this. So we shall not be silent.
