This World

Loosely Based on 'This Room by Imtiaz Dharker'
except her's is a poem of celebration,
and mine well you'll hopefully get the picture.
It was written as part of a workshop I did at school



This world is closing in
On itself, blocking out
Its dry sun
In search of dull dark
Soft cool air.

The trees are sinking back in
Its parched earth.
From light too bright leaves
Are curling back in their wombs.

This is the end of life
Brick it up
When the jeering faces offer bald black
Lies, when bellies stuffed wring the moist
Land-sky and earth are weeping
In soiled, garments
Past the clouds of sulphur, acid, poison
Swallowing the grasses
No one is looking or hears

Inside they build a boat
And cast themselves off
In the sea of their minds

My heart is outside crying