Always one coming

 

Credit

There’s a war coming over the mountains

snaking past the bridges into the township.

Always a war coming, always a countdown,

the whispers in the streets and insider tips.

 

Over bare mountains and over those mauve hills,

over the silver line of the horizon,

there’s always a war coming, guns and missiles

smoke out and rip open the lives of children.

 

Under the green grass and under the olives,

under the ribbons of blue waves and white foam,

there’s always a war coming where you now live

and a nose for the profits in shells and bombs.

 

I can’t sing you to sleep with soft lullabies

and tell you it’s fireworks that redden your skies.

What can I say? 

Life feels like a never ending battle sometimes. Death and taxes. Eye ailments, blood profiles, extreme weather, time zone management issues, terrible traffic, light and noise pollution, the waxing and waning shenanigans of the political classes, the lack of me-time, no time to write, etc, etc, etc. 

Then I look at what's happening out there in the wider world and my troubles seem to have a pretty low melting point.

Have a peaceful week.