It takes a little while
It takes a little while
But as the dark shadow hidden
In the corner
Before the sun has risen
Becomes a chest of drawers
I come to realise
The voice I heard,
The deep baritone
Intoning me to make my peace
Was not God’s silver tongue
But my own inner demon
Recognising another waking day
To renegotiate my relationship
With life
For a moment it is timeless
Not the stuff of afterlife
But the lack of a clock face
There was a time when a telephone
Would crouch upon
A bedside cabinet
Waiting to pounce
With its early morning call
They have been reduced
To waiting behind closed doors
In darkened offices
Or stationary cupboards
Along with aged fax machines
Printers fit in pockets now
Phones sit on chargers
Silenced to all but essential callers
So many friends I now seem to have
In Liberia and Nigeria
Yesterday inadvertently
Whilst trying to remove a spider
From the bedroom
I damaged its leg
I was consoled by the fact
It could grow back
After its release into the bamboo
I don’t think of it as a friend
But feel responsible somehow
We squash so many underfoot
Without really thinking
It feels so different
When we can put a face to
The victim
But I believe
Remote death by drone
May still leave a mark
Upon the operator
Gazing at a monitor a thousand miles away
Making coffee in the morning
With sleep still in my eyes
Can be a minefield
But of course not really,
Stumbling in the half-light
Tripping over flip-flops
Accidentally kicking the cat
Spilling the milk
Missing the cup
Overfilling the bowl with muesli
Is not the same
As living in a war zone
Far from it.