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The Tide

I didn’t sit with the professors and big men with lofty ideas and polished words

I crouched with the woman whose body was ravaged with hunger and hurt

I knew nothing of rising levels of stocks and commodities nor of cars and estates
nor the musk of money

The tide I raised my voice against was poverty and violence and the back that turned away from the sight of a lice infected child and her brother’s calloused hands picking through the rubble of broken bits of a dream demolished

I have no language no words to utter than that of anguish and fear, for that rising tide of war and destruction, of might and greed.
I am humbled by my own lowliness,
the inability to stem the squalls of hate,

you swim against the tide they say,
you will drown, they say,

I don’t see the shore nor the fading light only flashes
Flashes of orange and white
and the silence after….

After the silence….

Before the sirens that herald death.

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