#76 Kevin Brophy 'Desert lullaby'

The curtains are closed on the night

that flickers like the usual war out there.

It is something to go out and watch

from time to time.

We mash the potatoes as though

we’re stirring up another galaxy.

Today twenty children crouched on the floor

like frogs in front of a priest from Kenya

and he blessed each one with his big hands

all the time gazing at us with his amazed eyes.

The curtains are closed on the night

that breathes a little easier without us out there.

Somewhere a generator keeps everything going

we believe.

All it needs is the occasional kick and the odd

swear word from someone in overalls.

We eat the lamb, we pray to the lamb,

we dream of the lamb crying its name in the night.

The children bent themselves to their work today

because someone convinced them that this is work.

Everything here is bigger than we imagined,

even the pot holes.

The curtains have been pulled across the night

that is running at us from every direction now.