The torn curtain.

The torn curtain.

Cowards are exalted

The loudest voices heard

Above the clamour

Shouting from the tall grass.

Hidden in the clutter

Of argument

Are the peacemakers

Easily ignored.

The softly spoken

The angels with broken wings

Counting the cost

Of making an appearance

When the word is that

Only the angry

Will carry any sway.

The grandest gesture

Is to lie with a smile

The twinkle of an eye.

So many people wait

To be swept away

Caught up

In a verse, well-placed

To deliver a message

Easily understood

To be the truth we cling to

In darkness.

The torch, well-carried

Borne through the firestorm

As adjutants and generals

Play with themselves.

Stimulated by the movement

Of armies in a war room,

Toy soldiers

Don’t bleed,

Safe in the knowledge

They will be far from harm

Well away from the fallout

But at the vanguard

Of the fleet

Seeking safe harbour

In any future reckoning

Where peaceful co-existence

Is only an option

A gambit closer

To an endgame

So help me god

The head has fallen off

The pawn

The Bishop has fallen

Between the cracks

The knight eats like a horse

With little regard

For fair play

And the King so easily confined

One step at a time

Is an easy target.