Burning paradise

Bare soles sink
in the dark grey of conscience
like a missing orphan’s trail
gone cold.

Before long
they will be entombed within structures,
some concrete, some that give rise
to multidisciplinary discourses
when they crumble.

When the fires have been stoked enough
by indifference, they will take
what’s left of freedom and set up
mock pyres on watchtowers
and let the smoke
the colour of their choosing
escape.
And, then, maybe when the the world
is waking up to the meltdown,
we shall ask ourselves:

Does anything burn
more defiantly than freedom,
more greedily than a furnace,
more searingly than
a rainforest?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s