When We Bear Witness

In the face of tragedy or some other scandal,
we are drawn, like crows, to collect the shiny,
even if it’s just a flea market key chain lie
plucked by a politician from the dream bin and repackaged
as new policy, as the antidote to the never again cycle. 

We see that dangling silver key and pounce
like a lion to claim it, growling at any hand
that dares pry this illusion from our claws, 

for we have nothing else to hold on to.
From The Sunday Muse


Written for Poets and Storytellers United, dVerse, Twiglets, Go Dog Go Cafe, and The Sunday Muse


  1. Excellent, JYP. You bared the witnesses and hit them right on their repackaged, scandalous heads. All the lines witness perfectly to the imperfections in “peoples”.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I like the imagery in the poem.
    It reminds me of a recent election in a neighbouring country. I just cannot imagine a people voting in a populist president with no clear policy goals. We just have to see if they are right.
    I really like the way you craft the poem, excellent!

    Liked by 3 people

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