Arriving late, the winds push us inside
And guards observe us groping for a pen.
With lies and half-truths circling our minds,
In secret booths, we make our choice again.
The news has gone and leaves a silent bliss;
The online buzz is calm and quiet too.
The peace it leaves will soon be sorely missed,
When talk gets warm and feuds are back in bloom.
We buy some lollies (once the deed is done)
And suck on pensive words about our future.
Then back at home, we roll in careless fun;
Our part is done; the wounds are theirs to suture.
Whether red beats blue or blue beats red,
We’re laughing, fighting, living, dead.
by Harry Husbands