Hands.

The smallest hand reaches out, blindly,
And expects that someone will grasp it.
The child places his hand trustingly into
The hand of his companion, and walks on.
The girl holds hands under the desk and
Is sure that the boy she sits with is good.
The guy on his first date shyly grasps
The other's hand, and then smiles.
The couple join hands at the altar,
And vow to love each other for ever.
And then it starts again, and again,
A cycle of trust and love that we are
Taught to believe in, through books
And films and plays and songs.
And yet for so many this cycle is a joke.
For the refugee who reaches out into
The dark and there is no-one there.
For the man alone in a hospital bed
The harassed but kindly nurse can
Only spare a brief smile, and move on.
For the woman sat alone in an unheated
Room, wishing she had family somewhere
Who would call, or write, or even exist.
For the drunk on the street, cold, penniless
And hopeless, nowhere to go, nowhere to turn.
For them there is no cycle of certainty,
And for them, we are letting them down.

(c) 2ndwitch, 15/01/17

Hush, and listen . . .

My voice is no louder than yours.
Sometimes it is very quiet.
But I still have things to say,
I still have an opinion.
You should listen to my opinion,
For it is valid, and just as relevant
As your opinion is.
Please do not try and shut me up.
I have something to say.
It is the small people, the quiet people,
The almost silent people, the ones on the margin,
The ones who dare not shout,
The ones who fear the blows of misfortune,
The ones who work to stand still;
These are the people who hold our world together,
And these are the people that need to speak up.
Together we have a voice.
Together we can be heard.
Do not try to shut us up, we
Have things to say.
When the people speak.

History repeats itself . . .

A slow sad song
Sung
By one person
And then another
And another.

A melody
Played alone
That another picks
Up and plays
A countermelody to.

A chorus,
Standing up against
The majority
That do not
Want
To listen.

Perhaps
Perhaps
One day perhaps
It will be heard
And the glory
That is love
Will prevail.

© 2ndwitch, 25/01/15