The need to look again till it makes sense.

The confusing swirl of violence broke down walls
And panic rushed  like lightening through the  gaps
I saw folk taking photos, checking maps,
Their phones gripped like a weapon that appals

We visualise what makes up our defence.
The connection to  our absent, kindly friends
The need to make a record of the end.
The need to look again till it makes sense.

A well-known numbness tries to swallow me.
My heart needs its own time to feel the pain
The world I live in is not safe, that’s plain
Say Al Jazeera and the BBC.

Our mask of vapid innocence deceives.
Hatred of this kind is misconceived.

 

Advertisements

About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
This entry was posted in Thinkings and poems. Bookmark the permalink.