Day Zero

Today was the day before the West died – 
The West the Tall and Proud and Fearless – 
followed by his twin – 
The West the Kind and Open and Fearless...

Amid the rubble,
blinded by smoke,
frantically searching underneath debris – 
there remained The West the Orphan,
the strong and fearful The West the Orphan,
wailing like a siren until his voice was lost
and his ears had shut forever.

Weep, World. Mourn what was lost
in one, two, three fell swoops (almost four).
Heal the bleeding hearts of millions – 
and pray that they will not fester.

In the meantime, The Orphan strikes,
all power and doom and smouldering rage – 
all in the name of Freedom, and Justice, and revenge.
(Revenge, like rainbows, is only ever served cold.)
Begetting orphans all around...

Twenty years on, what has changed?

Fear still reigns victorious
over the scarred and the festered
(who infect all with their fetters)
and sits upon a throne of paperwork
wielding the femur of a child as sceptre.

Where the Twins once stood, now lie fountains – 
springs of life and of hope
and mere springs of hollow water
(depending on whether you visit
to wash your hands or to drink).

And each of us is now a tower, and a moat, and a choice:
a chance to mourn like tall shut coffins
or like lighthouses of love.

José Vieira 10/09/2021 (Beeston)