Being too aware of the tramplings of Man, Where do I take my comfort now? From the plastics in the water? In the food? Will that render me indestructible? Or just a replication of who I once was? What quietude am I to find In the caging of other beings No less deserving of their place, No less deserving of their freedom But now contained In order to save them from us? Where do I take my rest From the pursuit of violence Excused through split tongues Reading what they desire From warnings against What they would rather choose? How can I in faith blind myself To the suffering I cannot mend, But can speak against To those that do not hear? If ignorance is bliss, Is stupidity the heaven craved? Would that I could sleep Through these tribulations, And through inactivity And guilted silences Absolve myself of things I have not done, But could have affected. How do I find repose Knowing the self-destruction of Man Continues apace, In the pursuit of pleasures transient, With no thought of tomorrows Or those that will die of today’s poisons. Thus, the nights ring with sorrow Of mistakes made in full knowledge Of the consequences ignored And assuaged with cheap entertainments. And so, I write. And so I write: Would that it is enough… Cliff Lake 12/5/2023 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023
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