Depressed
by the manner of our species
(And his de facto complicity)
He seeks refuge in
The Art of Fugue
It works
For a while
Then we drown it out
By being
Birds are singing
Trees are green the sky where he is
is blue
Criss-crossed with vapour trails; He is currently
“Safe"
After reading of another scapegoat killed
By the self-proclaimed “threatened” yet overwhelming majority;
God fearing to a man and like God
Living productive lives in fear of self-reflection
These days are like so many others
Yet the numbers game colours this pandemic-ly;
He tries to smile
After all, the meme goes,
Optimism is the cure-all
And lucky he was born in a rich nation,
World leaders, chest beaters, rough sleepers, praise Jesus
He rises for coffee-making (hug the drug)
Appropriately served in a celebratory mug
While at the vacated computer desk
The smile
Hasn’t arrived
___
Comments
You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.