Saturday, 18 February 2012

The Thing


Let me start at the beginning.
People were singing.
Smiling, dancing.
At the beginning…
That´s where we´ll begin.
With this thing.
This thing.
Giving birth to vitality,
a tangible reality
where life was a circle
of hands
that danced in countless lands
without too many plans…

This thing,
this thing
would bring
beings together,
just being together
in a circle, a cycle,
a beginning,  an end
now dead, now alive,
In life, in death,
all in the same breath
a cycle, a circle
alive,
so this thing did thrive…
Come, take my hand, here -
let´s climb this great sphere,
until we reach our here
and now,
Now.
Now, what is it, this thing?

This thing has mutated.
What
on
earth
have we created?

Retail.
This thing is for sale,
this pestilent
sprawling mess
yes, this tangled vine
of thorns
I could have sworn
that thing was in there somewhere,
amongst these
weeds…
they call them needs,
but all they feed
is my ego.

So, what is it, this thing
that I need?
You told me it would make me.
Happy.
Powerful.
Strong.

Wrong.

This thing has mutated,
what
on
earth
have we created?

When a boy of eight,
filled with hate,
is stabbed through the heart
so desperate to feel
a part,
to belong.
The only hand that reached out to him
was shaped like a fist.
Something is amiss.

When love is found
by forcing a girl to the ground
invading her homeland
with a hand
that is there,
only to grab at her hair,
leaving a patch there
where
nothing will grow.

No.

This thing cannot be touched.
This thing,
it drives us bleary eyed
to tower blocks,
from box, to box, to box,
watching boxes,
looking for… what?

When power is found
by digging deep underground,
and forcing toxic chemicals down,
hemorrhaging the earth,
as though all it´s worth
is the black liquid that seeps
as mother earth weeps,
at what this thing
has become.

When our neighbors’ hand holds a gun,
and all that can be done,
will be done,
for the fight to be won.
For ownership to be declared,
nothing will be spared,
because this thing is
Greed.

We
Must
Have
What
We Need!

Feed
my desire.

With vulture beaks
they feast
on our flesh.
But wait…
Let´s go back to the beginning,
when people where singing,
what was it, this thing?

This thing was belonging,
an eternal circle,
a cycle of life,
and death,
and unified breath,
of body and earth,
and endless rebirth…
This thing was connected,
reflected,
accepted.

They were singing a song
that we´ve known all along.
The words ancient and un-formed,
circular,
rhythmic,
strong.
The drum beats in our bones.
This thing isn´t a thing,
we sing –
it´s a feeling.

A hand holding your hand,
a connection to land,
life and sky,
this thing is alive –
but not in your head,
in your heart.
So, let´s go back to the start
it´s an integral part,
this thing,
so stop grasping,
and, simply
look in.

© Lily Laloba 2012

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