By Anthony Ward
How can I be certain That I’m making my wife stronger Rather than making her weaker? How can I be certain That I’m raising my daughter’s self esteem Rather than lowering it? How can I be certain That my writing’s constructive As opposed to destructive? How can I be certain That I’m not spreading these lives too thinly Or layering them on too thick? How can I be certain that I’m doing the right thing Even when I’m wrong?
Living with Death
One day death will dawn upon me And relieve me of uncertainty, Of that I am certain. Though I don’t want to think of dying, To think of what it’s like to die. The more I wish death weren’t real, The more real it becomes. Making it harder for me to live. Being mortified by my mortality. Yet, from the moment we’re born we begin to die. Closing in on death the further we live. Each day we add becoming subtracted. Each year we gain another lost. Each step we take, taken from us. But would life without death be worth living at all? Is life not merely a shrine to death- Death a shrine to life? Would we not wish to die if we had to live indefinite?
Should we strive for immortality At the expense of our lives? Wanting to be in the minority Before we end up the majority Looking towards the heavens While we trample our yield? Should we aspire to the stars As we sit in the dark Hoping to escape our earthly problems While forgetting about those closest Sharing our space with awe?
The presence of man’s manifest In the simmering and smouldering trails of light Where he’s marked his territory Until the whole world’s as radiant as a star Blinding anyone attempting to look into it. Though it’s not until you look closer That you see the festering anoplura Expanding at such an exponential rate Like a carcinogenic plague Eating away its host Until it’s no longer sustainable. Exhausting our natural resources Motivated by engines Fuelled by fossilised trees Releasing the carbon dioxide They once retained To smooth the industry that took a mere couple of centuries To consume what had taken millions of years to produce.
The Best o’ Them
I’ve seen people get even, With the odds set against them. I’ve witnessed the best in people Through the worst of times. I’ve watched people change While the world remained the same. I saw people remain the same As the world changed around them. I’ve seen people stand up While others sat it out. I’ve heard people shout. Whilst the rest whispered around them. I’ve seen people starving, Where others were hungry for more. I’ve seen people reinvigorated, At the end of the line. I’ve seen people run, When walking was fine. I’ve seen people crawl When they could have laid down.