HUSH
Certainty knows so loudly A fighter-jet Carving the world Into soundbites Mass-produced in bright keys Belched from its rear end Filling all space for thought With static What if we fell Through a crack in the noise Into silence? No echo of ourselves To tell us we’re the best Only the sound Of God breathing Would the barking dogs That guard our interests At the gate of our souls Slope away? Would we return To our lives, less sure? Or would we still Dressed in suits Walk unseeing like ghosts Past the broken displaced Make our neighbour drink mud Since he has no shares In the water we trade Or the doctor we own Build our villas on hills Filled with migrant graves With cash earned from arms All this while we cry ‘Jesus saves’ Would we still Slit throats in the sun Of a Libyan beach While the surf rolls in To the sound of a shout ‘Allahu Akbar?’ We? That was ‘them’! There is no them In the hush that descends After the tumbling Question mark A minute of silence Face to face with nothing But the whisper of God ‘You thought that I was like you?’
Mud at the wall 