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No place to hide
Splintered fragments shatter
cohesive thought
searching through the
ratter, tat, tat, to
no understanding.
He knew
Someone, somewhere
saw the unravelling
the brilliance dissipating
fragmenting, splintering.
Someone, somewhere
shouted, screamed, pleaded
to help him.
Others talked, pushing paper and ideas
precious time slipping through
inaction and indecision
whilst pictures built
and voices came louder, louder, louder
urging the stock piling, the building, the buying
until the ratter, tat, tat
burst through the remnants of ordinary lives
spraying misery over broken remains
bleeding out into debates
that rage through
precious time slipping
poem
by
Diana Rosser
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