Evening Child
As I enter life’s evening of lengthening Shadow
And reddening afterglow
My prevalent feeling is far removed from contented
Mellow fruitfulness
.
It’s much more akin
To the empty promise of a lost and frightened Child
Blindfolded and gagged
Stumbling in a minefield of adulterated ground
Unsure of which way to turn
To find reassuring sense
.
I feel impelled to weep and scream and yell
‘What the Hell do you think you are doing?’
As I protest my innocence
Along with countless others
Before, with and after me
Compelled to dwell
In the wake of forbidding thought
That casts our souls adrift
From where we belong
In spirited kinship
.
Or forces us to comply
With unifying order
To be unseen and unheard
In homogeneous array
Excepting those who stand so proud
Above the common crowd
.
‘Where is the sense in this?’
I ask
Beneath my stifled breath
Reaching out for helping hand
.
But far too few
Come close enough
To make a difference
To the mess we’ve made of life
Gifted to us
In this amazing place on Earth beneath our feet
Air in our hair
Water coursing through and all about us
Fire spreading light and heat
.
All suffused
By the endless grace of space
Ever present
Silent stillness
The calm within our storm
.
Cannot this herd of great unheard
Find our feet
Raise our voice
Be seen for who we are
And sweep aside this contamination of sacred ground
By megalomaniacal minds
Hell bent by their will to power?
