My wife returns home from a short walk to our main street: ‘It’s
like a festival day. People are out and about and drinking coffee and having
cups of tea and chatting in the sunshine.’ We’re hanging out the sheets and I
am wondering if the citizens are just hoodwinked – ‘There’s a bit of a breeze
but it’s lovely’ - if the easy domestic life of this small Australian country
town is blinded by comfort from the wars and strife of so many countries and
the troubled peoples of the world.
Yeah, pieces that poets should write, in our times,in solidarity with our brethren who are in trying situations over which they do not have power. I see the irony and paradox of it all. This poem restores my faith in the humanity.
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