January 16, 2017Poem

The Gate Swings Shut

lossnaturepoliticsmemorytimeidentity

As the sun goes down

He stands

By the garden gate

A warm breeze

Playing across the meadow

Gently it swings

Free of encumbrance

Back and forth

As the hinges squeak

A lazy accompaniment

To the process of dreaming

Breathing in the scent of

Cherry blossom

Remembering the days

When as a child

Waiting was forever

Until the time came

For taking action

To keep from sliding

When everything moved

Too quickly

For comprehension

Of a meaning

To the unfolding

Of days

Keeping pace with living

Was a wonder

In itself

Before the age of reason

Slowed things down

Until they stopped.

The gate swings shut

Hard against the frame

All good things

Come together, eventually

As the sun goes down

English country garden

Dreamers

Sadly sigh

As the blind cruelty

Behind the light of yesterday

Leaves the sky

Empty but for shadows.

Dispossess me

Take away the tags

Remove the marks

Of identification

Which guarantee me

A place at the table

Label me a cypher

Without a secret

Everything known

In flagrante

Disregard privacy

What have we to fear

From such munificence

When was a tumour

Ever as benign

As your gradual leeching

Of my individuality

Cleverly disguise me

As a delinquent

Breaching the walls

Of safe haven

For an escape room

Process me as a dissident

When I call you out

Refuse to wear

Your collar

It will blow off my head

If you so choose

Who are you

To say who is free

When everything

We do for fun

Brings us

Closer to an age

Of conformity

And by degrees

Under the guise

Of individual freedoms

Of expression

We sell the soul of liberty

On social media

For a fee

Youtube dissenters

Need to make a living

Selling freedom

As a lifestyle choice

Pedalling rebellion

As a youthful voice

That can be bought

In any colour

Shape or size

In bitcoins

Whatever they may be

Right click

Means you tacitly agree

To Pay pal

Nothing about this

Makes any sense to me.