Calling a post “Infanticide” is probably tantamount to click-bait, but this is really about suppressing our inner child
Sirens wail an ear-piercing din,
Paramedics rush the victim in.
No time to loose, up disinfected corridors,
To the bright, stark, glare of the emergency ward.
Meanwhile in a silent waiting room,
Society frozen, waits impending doom.
A policemen licks his pen and writes,
The hideous events that occurred this night.
A muttering of alarmed objection,
But we stand accused of wilful neglection.
The heinous crime of infanticide,
The attempted murder of the child inside.
Under nourishment of the mind,
The first in a long list of crimes.
Smothering optimism with a cynical sneer,
Joyful laughter we no longer hear.
The innocent pleasures locked out of sight,
Replacing love with a need to fight.
Hatred stabbed our hope to death,
Wringing out its final breath.
Honesty has been all but forsaken,
The beauty of simplicity, hideously misshapen.
Sharing choked by repugnant greed,
Trust was starved as we forgot to feed.
Childhood happiness lost and forgotten,
Friendship shaky, and savagely beaten.
But from the theatre door, in a panicked rage,
The surgeon takes up centre stage.
Rushing from the operating table,
“He’s on life support, but remaining stable.
We stitched the wounds, removed choking ropes,
He’s critical, but there’s life and hope.”
And in unison, we hear the sound,
Sighs of relief as they echo round.
But if only it could be this simple.
To find the best in us, in all this muddle.
And if only it could be this easy,
To fix our faults and make each other happy.
20th Sept 1998