FRAILTY and DISCORD!
We watched the fields burning
The sky turning black then gold
We saw the dark birds fleeing
Smart animals running crazy-free
I, am not embarased by my honesty
Like a bloody steak laying on a cold plate
Like a mysterious line from Hemmingway
Like a centre-page from Spick and Span
If we were prisoners of the Bolshoviks
If we were sought by Gestapo puppets
Trained by the rigours of excess hatred
Trapped and snared by Delia’s thorny bush
The river still flows eastward muddy
The snow-peak falls still tumble bloody
I watch the fires burn and sweat anguish
I’m a sentinel, a watchman, a torrid tale
And here is a bloodied child alone
Confused like us rest – searching
Broken, bleeding with no meaning?
Shame and frailty – cover the child!