The Stubborn Break

My last poem was posted as a break from the Gratitude series, but the break seems to have made up its mind to stay a while longer. Although Gratitude 7 has been written, it is being saved for a certain occasion. Meanwhile there may be further Gratitude poems, but this one's a standalone outside the series as well. The thought process for this poem was triggered by a personal disappointment (note the first stanza), but then it went off in a different direction.

Let's see how it looks on paper... er, screen.

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All

You think you've seen it all

Until you see your heroes fall --

Until you watch them go in circles, aimless

Like a little canoe in a riverine whirlpool,

Arms extended, feet unsteady, like children

Playing a game of Blind Man's Buff :

Groping and stumbling, the slightest shove

Throwing them off their paths.

You think you've heard it all

Until you hear a dying man's call,

Begging for life, crying for water,

For Mother, for child or beloved one --

Invisible, inaudible in a street crowded

With multitudes jostling for precious space,

Precious protest, precious commerce --

Each living off the other's life-blood.

You think you've done it all

Until you find an unbreached wall

Standing strong against your pride --

Brick on brick and mortar thick,

It holds its grandeur in your face

"I'm indestructible, invincible", it says, leering,

Daring you to ram it, scale it, conquer it,

To reduce it to rubble and ruin.

You think you have it all

Until you find all is nothing at all --

All is not enough if your idols crumble,

If your faith in humanity dies with a man

Crying on the street, if your priceless freedom

Is paid for by closing you in with walls.

For what seems to be all is hardly all at all,

And even if it is, it's still not enough.

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