The Silent Journey

Being a father is difficult
when all you got from yours was violence
and pain
and moments of pure unadulterated rage.
Then you grow up
swearing you’ll never be the same.

Motherhood lacerates your flesh
any day you try to break
the never-ending chain of gender.
Too gentle with a daughter you need to steel up against the world,
too harsh with a son whose only guilt was to be a male
you’ll eventually fail both
since you’ve never learnt
how to be a parent first.

Humanity is what cuts the deepest, though,
wired as you are
to be the master of the planet
and the butcher-vampire of all its species.
Under a falling sky
of dead birds and southern green lights
you count toxic teardrops in the thousands
realising not one moment too early
this orbiting round-shaped rock is all you have
-in swirling revolutions around the galaxy core
-in this flawed stunning version of the multiverse
with bacteria, squirrels, stones, and kilobytes as your silent travel mates.

back to issue