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An Arm’s Length Away
Sometimes, when we hurl
angry words—
ancient stones thrown by indifference,
lodging in the ears of our children.
Witnessing horror twist itself into child’s play.
A stone’s throw—killed our empathy.
Anger knows its enemy:
sitting next to,
sitting opposite of,
never with.
It sits a stone’s throw away.
Rising from the ashes of fear—
Vapours of flesh smoulder
as blooded lava flows.
Cools—
our scarred magma to a crusted creed.
The stitched social fabric
binds us—
its loud colour blinds us.
Worn by both—
the right
and left sleeve.
United buttons,
reconcile for peace.
Unironed—full of wrinkles.
We tear further apart
the closer we come,
repelling—mirroring
the same magnetic face.
We read our compass,
in a bipolar place;
wondering how,
we’ve lost our way.
Believing everything
we’ve been taught,
until we die—
Realizing—
too late,
it’s all been a lie.
Copyright ©
Casey Hart
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