worker ants are we
carrying our load
that over the years
has become leaden, unwieldy
and grown knife-sharp
burrs digging into skin and necrotising flesh
eroding and abrading
laden with expectation
wants have transformed into needs
more urgent than water
than the very air we breathe
infinite possibilities are subsumed
in unrelenting grey dolour
as unstoppable as time itself
it takes strength to resist
to walk away from the pressure
and those who say ‘just do it’
and those who say ‘it’s not that easy’
are both right
each from their own perspective
each from their own prison
each hearing, but not listening –
empathy is necessary
more so these days than ever, perhaps
and yet the white noise deafens
we are hoodwinked and blinded
and through wilful isolation
we choose to fail to realise –
we are not alone.
Here’s my latest entry into VisDare this week, the prompt run by the lovely Angela. I have chosen to write in poetic form this time, but of course, I have met the guide of using 150 words or less! Please feel free to read, comment, critique or just enjoy, whatever you prefer.
I am going through a bit of a political phase on my blog at the moment, as you will see from here and here. Of course, all of life is political and politics invites people to disagree with your opinions. Wouldn’t life be dull (or horrific) if we all had the same viewpoint? I’m not great at arguments, they do put me in turmoil. But life requires you to be brave, right?
I was not just enshrined in black and white
trained to react to a whistle
and launch myself over the top
I didn’t just stare at No Man’s Land
jumping at every falling leaf
nerves shot to pieces, trembling with fear
I was not just shipped hastily to Europe
attempting to aid our Allies
in facing down the Nazi machine
I was not just despatched to the Mediterranean
sand-whipped and sweating
to fight in a theatre far flung from home
I am not a romantic notion of old boys and idealism
telling war stories of camaraderie
I am not decades past.
I am the young man hobbling down the street
I am the hands held out for a bit of spare change
I am the woman bound to a wheelchair
I am the mental health patient facing down the day
I am sitting next to you on the bus.
I am here.
Remember, I am here.