No Easy Road...

I was dreaming of soaring when I was sharply woken
by a low incessant rumble that had filled out the room
and as I stirred I realised that the window was shaking
from the shivers of discomfort that gripped at the moon.
Dressed, I headed out to find a riot in full swing;
had to pull my jumper up to keep from breathing the fumes.
From what I gathered it all started as lawful protesting –
a reaction to some changes they’d announced on the news.

So I’m told the police arrived with their intentions set -
some talk of order and then they set about throwing their weight -
they barked some commands at the people, tried to keep them in check,
but there’s only so much coercion a riled rabble will take.
When light returned front doors stayed closed and the streets lay wrecked,
the scene was haunting as the soundless morning after a quake.
Now I’ll be first to lay my sword down and I’ll never forget -
it can take seconds to destroy what took an age to create.

I proceeded on swift feet to get away from the brawl
and arrived upon the high street where the shop fronts glow bright.
Even though the street was empty there were eyes on the walls
and they all followed me intently ‘til I slipped out of sight.
Among entrancing displays I noticed someone had scrawled,
“Come on through our doors and you’ll be part of the hype!
We know the diamonds in our precious rings will serve to enthral
and if you’re hard up, that’s just fine, you can pay with your life.”

I walked on slightly perplexed but moreover uneased
and took the route on impulse to the bus station.
I’d a gut feeling that this wasn’t where I wanted to be,
so I picked a bus at random and I went to get on.
The driver stopped me at the door and demanded money,
but with my pockets lined with lint he said nothing could be done.
As the early morning rain came I retreated off the street
and in the doorway of a temple I waited for the sun.

There a boy with a curl either side of his head
warned, “be meek or you’ll burn in the fires of hell.”
I said “you circus tiger cub, you’re being pulled and not led.
I see Gehenna in your eyes and you’re not even twelve.
You don’t have to live in awe as your idols intend -
climb the ladder, put that heavy scroll back up on the shelf,
and maybe when you’re taller and you’re much better read
you can sift through that whole genre and decide for yourself.”

The words that left his father’s mouth, I couldn’t believe it,
and with his tone of voice rising I took off pretty fast.
I walked home with hands in pockets, soaked through, weighed down
with thoughts of that poor kid who had no questions to ask.
Back in my fortress I felt anxious and watched TV for a bit;
an inspirational speech about colour and caste.
I sat wrapped in a blanket as a man stood at the pulpit
shouting, “Thank God almighty,” but the moment has passed.