(I wanted a break - an all apps off clearance of my mind for a week or two - but then I hear about new troubles in the north (of Ireland). These are not good days )
RETURN TO THE TROUBLES
The birds hear the latch, I’m ready with crumbs
violence and pain in the north again
History’s march, all piping and drums;
just words in a dream for the victors pen
***
Like the storm of the mountain, like the surge of the sea,
like the blast of the whirlwind, burst forth humankind
From unshackled darkness, our urge thus to be
cast us from unconscious, cursed us with a mind
it’s a worrying time…..
Madness, all of it