Insomniac’s Balm

 It is 3.17am.
 Sleep doesn't come.
 I can hear the sound of trauma. It is
 yet right here
 It is a nightmare
 yet I'm awake
 It is silence
 yet that silence is deafening
 It is subversion
 played out by
 white collars and
 mighty trucks
 Crushing little people
 We are lucky
 It's not Tiannamen Square
 We are blessed
 It's not North Korea
 We have much to be thankful for
 It's not Nazi Germany
 But they don't help
 these thoughts
 they just morph into
 a void of pain
 The pain of looking
 at your suffering
 through the eyes of
 others' indifference
 But we do not stand
 There are those who weep
 beside us for whom
 we are neighbours
 real people
 Their tears mingle
 with our own
 and together we find a
 gentle if inadequate balm for
 our souls
 The houses may be going
 down the street
 Their occupants
 our own neighbours
 now gone
 but hope and love never die
 They prove their worth
 on this battlefield...

 7 September 2017

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