Tiny splashes of gold tinted light
Play over his face for a moment
Oblivious to the smell and the filth
They glint briefly
On a broken needle
In a lifeless arm
And move on, leaving nothing but dark.
The girl in the gold sequined dress staggers
Leaning heavily on a hopeful young man.
Never glancing into the alley, she’s past.
Seeking more drinks
To swallow some pain
And fall drunkenly into more, in the dark.
Sitting in my loungeroom
No-one else here, phone silent.
Loneliness sucks at me like a vacuum.
I just sit on the couch,
And stare at the wall
For hours in the aching, empty dark.
Half the world’s people are starving to death,
While the other half eat to their last, wheezing breath.
Poor countries lent money from rich,
They buy guns from the rich
And shoot their own poor.
Sometimes it seems this whole fucking place is broken and dark.
Swapping stories with mates in a dingy gym changeroom
Body loose and warm from a workout.
A smile and salute from the owner’s teenage daughter
Mocking my old army trenchcoat.
I salute back.
She laughs and I smile.
A little light, a little warmth in the dark.
Midnight on a footbridge, getting soaking wet.
Watching and listening and quietly dripping
As the rain caresses everything it touches.
Soothing, calming, healing.
Like someone stroking your hair when you’ve a fever,
The dark comes alive under streetlights.
Sure, things break.
Your heart, your friendships, possessions, your whole world.
But what is broken can be mended.
And something that was broken and painstakingly repaired
Somehow becomes more dear to you
Than something that never broke at all.