(Same River, New Waters …)
Last year passed the golden glove
You know, the one with a fist of iron.
She wanted no more of it. Nor I.
Those glossy, glittering, glistening,
shining products of a golden age
had lost their sheen and the age of
growth and worshipping at the alter of
God. Demands. Profit.* is so last year.
Meanwhile, in the town, at Star Books,
We were reading over a tax-free coffee,
batting ideas on who could pay the bill
and how you make your money work,
if only we had some …
Consumption was her daily bread
no longer bleeding from the lungs
but from our wallets
and the disease that strangled
generations, who died of terminal debt.
The improper death of innocents
where is their misplaced virtue.
Are they free of blame … still free?
Maybe no more, and yet we must
pay due heed to plant the seed of hope.
To fight for nourishment forgone.
It might have been the will of the people,
but, for folk who step into the same rivers
ever newer waters flow …
© 2019 John Anstie
[The core of this poem was influenced by the Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, who lived around the 5th century BCE and was well know for his thesis about ever-present change, that “no man ever steps in the same river twice”, which, in modern parlance, suggests that you can ‘reinvent’ the wheel. It is a subtle but, for me, a very compelling philosophical perspective.
It was first published in the The Bardo Group Beguine on 22nd April 2019]
- … or Gross Domestic Product