Is a poem our only fate?

Is a poem our only fate?

Is a poem our only fate?

When the world has finished it’s nightmare raid

Broken bricks

Burning wooden sticks

As we have no power

To turn on the electric switch

The light dims and flickers

On crumpled paper

We write

Throughout the night

Ink on our weary fingers

Smoke and cold lingers

I see the frozen air

I breathe

Deep

Only paper and ink

Is all I see

Collecting paper debris

To write the words

So we can never forget

The world dispersed

Catching words

In this uneven world

Recording the stories untold

No one would believe me

A story of real science fiction

I’m living in

The smoke screens

Deceiving what we see

What the world is meant to be

Now only debris beneath my bare feet

On this potholed, broken street

Where the earth and mind meets

Surviving our shattered times

Seeing between these deep inked federal lines

Guarded by toy soldiers

State and countries merged into one kingdom

Land belongs to no one

Ink on my hands

Written on crumpled paper

I write

Is a poem my only fate?

Ink and thoughts cannot be erased

Mind space

Crumpled paper gives us grace

To live in our own mind and space

The shattered, blistered, burning earth

Can still hear and speak my poetic verse

Vibrating, rhythmic words

Under my bare feet

My words no worse than the desolate earth

Is a poem our only fate?

Our only escape from this place

My words have found a safe place

History cannot be erased and replayed on a new tape another day

That is not our true fate

Ink on crumpled paper says

Don’t let a poem be our only fate

Replay the old history video today

Don’t erase

Lessons can be learnt today

Don’t let a poem be our only fate

Toria

28/1/2023