With every word the tv anchor speaks,
the pressure grows
until you feel that you might scream and break
if you hear one more bit of bad news.
You’re just a tiny grain of sand against the pounding, crushing
waves – after wave after wave –
of dark and bitter ocean.
The world’s a fruit that’s rotten to the core
and every breath is like a bite of poison,
whose venom spreads until it’s just
a shouting in your mind,
that threatens to deafen everything you are.
It’s an alley with both ends blocked,
blackness spreading, nowhere left to run.
But just when it becomes too much – no more, how can it be like this?! –
and horror, disbelief and utter bafflement are all that you have left to feel...
The onslaught halts, recedes, it’s power undercut.
Still lingering outside, it rages, swirls, but finds no inroad to your mind,
by bricks and stone and steel – a wall built ‘round your soul as you remember:
You are not alone.