It’s the words of comfort

uttered by a voice from behind

as they slip their arms around your waist

and their head pressed deep

into the space between your shoulders,

that for a brief moment make you forget

the tension you feel as the corroded sense

of perspective explodes in your head

when you remember

that they are spoiling for fights around you,

that humanity loves a brawl,

that the battle is never won,

that we never, ever learn,

that the dark conflict rages

that nations will always clash,

and the rhetoric of ideology

will feign surprised fury,

will fume and gasp

as smoke gets blown

and mirrors polished,

the danger of despots,

the storm and steam of Senate,

the greed of Government,

the jeopardy of Junta,

the risk of reduced responsibility

as we sit back and pop another can

in the safety of blinds pulled down in living rooms

and the menace is kept away

as designer suits comment

on what should frighten us,

that we should hate, hate, hate

that we should be scared of them,

whoever the fuck them turns out to be,

as the role changes no longer week by week

but C.N.N., Al-Jazeera, B.B.C.

Tass, Sesame Street and C.I.T.V.

change the definition of enemy

at the door by each updated bulletin;

it all fades away for the briefest of moments,

that the fear of Universal suicide

by an itch trigger finger

is made redundant

as she says,

Stay calm, I Love You.

Ian D. Hall 2016