Discomfort

This comes from my sense of discomfort in my writing:

I want to be funny

Write of beauty

But there is war

I want to walk you down flower filled lanes

Where we watch the butterflies and bees

But children are suffering

I want us to travel to far flung climes

And see marvellous things

That we will carry with us forever

Happy in our hearts to have seen them

But animals are being abused

I dream of the stars and the universe

And wonder who is out there

What magic I know nothing of

The moon moves me to tears with its simple beauty

And how powerful it is as as just a reflection of light

Why is humanity not beautiful?

What possible reason can there be to create so much hurt and harm to every possible thing

To take the one thing that sustains us and destroy it

Why do we not at least reflect the light?

I wish wish wish

I didn’t feel like a moralist

A person who sees the bad

When I so much want to be the light

To share the light

But the world has gone mad

And I can’t save it alone

Yet I also cannot ignore it

Be blissful in my ignorance

That’s no way to be

I have one tool I can use

My voice

And I can’t shut up

Nor should I

Even though I never dreamed

Of writing this way

Under those perfect skies

In those beautiful forests

Near those perfect sands

While butterflies dance

Bees gather pollen

Birds sing

And children laugh and play

If you listen

If you really listen

You will hear the guns and the cries

Of those in a hell of human creation

It’s in the air

Travelling on the wind

Roaring through the trees

Begging us to care

To stand together

To say no and mean it

To vote out war mongers

To call out conflict

To become a force that no one can ignore

Creatives can reach out

And make the stand they take

Beautiful

Let the poetry of your creative heart

Become the voice or the image that says

No

Deb Hawken – September 2024