Hey folks, I don’t claim to be a poet nor would I but I like to sometimes put my thoughts in a poem structure of sorts. When I checked the news this morning, my heart sank. The world is lost, what’s next I asked myself, and then as I opened a blank page to continue with a work in progress, the below thoughts came out instead.
Stay safe wherever you are.
Our Weary World
Beginning to adjust to the new ways, lockdowns, social distancing
And missing family.
Battles within fought every few days
To keep focus for my own good and to save others.
Waking up to days without names, without function or
A diseased heart dictates.
I could cope just about, then.
Our world is broken.
Not by new ways but old that lived,
secrets in shadows, until the masks, fell off.
From a simmering pot to boiling dry.
Its burning smoke choking us in reality.
The time, when living drenched in unfairness and injustice was never
gone to be no more.
Evil thrived unseen, unspoken, uncared about.
Weaved through society, hidden beneath layers of indifference and I’m alright Jack.
The world is weary, it wants us off, to leave,
to let nature claim it back,
from greed, disrespect, and power.
Who to blame for ruining the pot?
We all point the finger,
When we should point it at ourselves.