the whine of the isolated privileged

and lo,
the earth did heave beneath the weight and strain
of a billion, billion people that it could not contain
to a point that, with a great exhale
it did slow down time and send each creature
into imobile, self-contained social distancing
until it felt as if a great and necessary Sabbath had descended…

i fucking hate Sabbath!

who knew the scurrying crowds were so necessary
to keep my chaos mind ablaze and green with growth;
those people i would watch in their midst but afar
only from afar now to a point where there seems
no point
no desert father i,
no self-appointed or otherwise cast out Saint John…
just a friendly misanthrope needing nearness;
i will keep my distance with headphones and stern looks
thank you very much

i am Jane Goodall cast away from her adoptive clan
and told to “make it work” from her home office –
a safe distance in London from west Africa
where i can forgage amongst the Doritos and Ding Dongs
eating my feelings until the last trumpet sounds
and all doors
and all windows
are torn from their casements
announcing a final Year of Jubilee

crescendo of silence

i would dive into the deep water
to plunge into the cold dark
and sink into an isolated quiet
where even the sound of breathing
is stopped by a fear of death
and even the fear of death
is stopped by the temptation
to take a breath
and then listen to the drums
beat out their last
a timpanic end to sound
with a silent crescendo

a black and blissful, blazing silence

a duller sea

there it was
off and lost,
her soul,
it slipped away
without her knowing
leaving her cold
and in shadows
a quieter woman
inexplicably alone
in the biggest crowds;
in the warmest sun
with no thought
to call it back to her
with no way
to stem the sense
that she was shadow
without a body
drifting through
a duller sea
than was meant to be

saviour complex

he wanted to destroy the world
so he could be the one to save it;
and this was who he was –
a man who would extinguish candles
that he might set them aflame again
to claim the role of light-bringer;
he was a destroyer first
that he might become a creator last
and bask in the glow of thanksgiving.