A stolen traffic cone
left to fend for itself in the undergrowth;
a stark reminder that Mother Nature’s home
is plagued with humans
and helicopter drones,
drowning out Her sounds
from behind distant clouds.
Casting a shadow
across the half built houses,
black picket fences
and synthetic turf trenches
marking war territory now.
Whilst the wild animal
and scours the landscape
as if by natural instinct,
order home deliveries
and scour social media
as if natural insecurity
was a sign of intellectual evolution,
just like how
we cause the pollution
that’s killing the planet
yet claim to love it;
but most of us
looking at a pretty flower
would not know it’s poison.
At times I come across a soul
so quick to bring me down
I wonder what their story is
and what joy they have found
in superficial conflicts
or actions brought of anger,
how do they think
that will make the world a better
place, for us to live on together?
Hearts closed to the bigger picture
this is how they respond to the suffering
of others, by increasing the fracture
till we’re all just single broken bones
in a human body,
for a collective heart heavy.
Spreading the disease
of jumping to the worst assumptions
about another human heart
without knowing its best intentions.
But love is a doing word
so let’s all keep in mind
that in a world already tough enough
at least we tried being kind.
‘Maybe you should take a nap’
hoping it will confine your sadness
to just one room of the house
or how with your sleep
we find temporary peace.
You wonder how
I can spend so long
lying in the bath.
It’s the only door with a lock on.
Sometimes it’s my only escape.
If rooms had porous walls,
like a sponge
I’d beg them to soak up all your melancholy,
let it trickle out to the ground
and water seeds
who will blossom in its memory.
If it were mine,
I would give the sun to watch you glow,
because I’d rather live in darkness
my whole life
if it would just keep you warm.
The tide continues its motion
lapping the broken shores in a peaceful sigh of relief
after holding its breath for so long.
You recall the beach by your childhood home
spending hours pondering what treasures lay
on other shores
how desperately you wanted to believe
in a world away from those bricks and walls
which built that house and then trapped you inside it.
You recall the beaches in foreign countries
you had the honour of gracing.
How you remembered that first beach
and realised you had made it.
You are still making it.
No matter where you are in the world
the water always finds its way to you.
It endures the earth’s currents
to reach the ground your feet are stood upon.
It’s about the long fight.
And if the ocean can find a way to touch you
and at every opportunity longs to dip your feet in its brilliance
you can get out of bed and exist today.
There are times one beholds their world
as without kindness, without care;
there are times one has to chip away at their own damn
to quench the world’s thirst.