A Broken City

This place was once a beauty, full of people browsing boutiques.
And children sitting by the fountains, during hot summer weeks.
But she is not running late, to walk through the cafe door.
She is on her way to join her family, in a long, life losing war.
Though what’s coming? She does not know, and as she sips on her cup of tea, Her heart sinks and she realises, her nightmares are what she can see.
The serviettes are flying; forks clatter to the ground,
Then in the distance a gun is shot, and she knows she’s not safe and sound. It’s not clear who is co-ordinating, the operation of persistence.
But if one man can start a protest, One person can make a difference.
Protestors stand united, all advancing behind shields.
She is given a hockey helmet, and old shoes instead of heels.
The faces of the people are like black charcoal after fire,
The streets are a cloud of darkness, a shadow no one will desire.
And while some girls are sitting down at school, complaining about study, We can’t go five minutes, without having to worry.
Most of us are desperate for freedom,
And others plead for peace.
But through the stench and acrid smoke,
Our leader leaving is what we truly seek.

Her eyes gaze out at the wreck; a horror film being created, And landing at her feet, a white, dove feather awaited. A light found in a dark tunnel, sunshine through bad weather, a sign of hope to hold on to, when all seems never to get better.


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