Like a multi-faced granite block,
Washed to small and stream-smoothed rock,
Each tick of clock, a dark full-stop
Deposits lost to river wrack –
Non-returned – no going back.
We accumulate increasing lack.
A beach stolen, grain by grain.
Warning-callers called insane.
‘Till one shore’s loss is another’s gain.
So, wonder not at those who rage
At what these subtle moves presage –
At fools digging their own graves.
When division’s cry is “Unity!”
And our sole ambition: “Notice me!”
We lose the forest to hug the tree.
Realisation’s ugly dawn
Will arrive in mask and uniform,
To enforce your freedom to conform.
The truth will hit in cold cascade
When your child, selling lemonade,
Is gunned down beside your garden gate.