One throw of the die

A black hole with a vole for a soul
Disembodied, dismembered, the
Unseen woman, whole
To those who are passing, making a way
For the violent rage that surpasses dismay
At the way of the world and its carnage each day
Drink green tea, dance at sea, be a shaman like me
Said the people who stared with disgust
At her blank lack of lust
For living unfree.
She just couldn’t, just wouldn’t
Not care for the bare
Lack of care for the naked-cheeked
Plight of the people on boats
Leaving homes, with their kids
Without shoes, lifejackets or crews
To be free on our shores,
Turned away from here too
What’s the point? she would rage
In a rant on the stage
Of her wage-less blank page
Perhaps words could get in
Where the burden lay bare
And the people would care
For more than just them
Selves and smartphones and kittens
Shared mindless on screens
P’rhaps words would cut through
All the bullshit fake news,
To make people think twice
About others, like them, who are starved and alone
To examine within and find dark deep inside
An image of whom?
With one throw of the die,
Those people
Are them.
© xmab 2017