Broken Trust
Life becomes a dreadful fright
When nobody can be trusted
Individually or collectively
To know or do what’s right
Least of all yourself
.
Is this what’s become of us
You and me
In this age of post-modernity
As we struggle to find our way clear
From complex entanglement
In webs of deceit
Constructed to entrap
Our minds, hearts and guts
In paralysed bodies
Awaiting consumption?
.
Is there really no way to know
What does and doesn’t make sense
As we wait in suspense
For who knows what
To ingest us as prey
In order to live
On what remains of our day?
.
When all we need ask
Is to remove the mask
That prevents us from seeing
The depth in our being
That calls into question
Any suggestion
That we stand alone
As a whole or as a stone
Apart from where we belong
In this world of song
That moves us within and around
The still, empty ground
The infinite grace
The receptive space
That invites into becoming
A life that is humming
With the birds and the bees
Who place us at ease
Freed at last
From the tyranny of past
That brings us to our knees
In despair
Through the lack of self-care
That makes us neglect
And leaves our lives wrecked
Very far from erect
On shattered fragments of broken trust
Crumbling to dust
In the wake of fiction
The cause of such friction
In the struggle for life
That replaces compassion with strife
.
