Safe

He asks “Is it safe, this talk?
Aren’t there too many eyes
that don’t merely mock?”
Picturing some hockey sticks, bats and chains
laced on a crowd of frenzied men,
I sense our fear
misting everything we hold too dear.
They say-
the tongues that don’t behave
will find their place but only in a grave.
I hesitate;
tell him, “of late
there’s just too much hate.
it’s like we stopped thinking.
It’s risky these days,
talking and reflecting,
with the laws of the jungle
plastered ahead.
But we do what we do,
listen and say,
it’s in times like these we have to be a tad bit spunky
or each one’ll go back to being a monkey.”

This article was posted on Sunday, November 3rd, 2019 at 8:02am and is filed under Poetry.