He collected his thoughts
There were not now so many
He looked for solutions
But sadly —— there weren’t any.
And while he was thinking
More innocents were dying
As mothers of children
Were collectively crying.

Nowhere is the statesman
Amidst the great thrall
Who’ll stand and be counted
For his voice is too small.
And the nurses and doctors
Work among the disaster
Yet all they can do
Is be as sticking plaster.

The world had gone mad
We had all lost the point
But there was no Saviour
No one now to anoint.

©Joe Wilson – untitled…2019