My street is quiet now.
Cars, buses, lorries,
noisy polluters of our very breath,
have fled in disarray.
Erstwhile pedestrians
fearing encounter
seek safety behind stern doors;
peering apprehensive from windows
they put trust in technology
and hope for supplies.

Can this be judgement
self-imposed upon a world
that would not share its wealth?
Uneasy power blocs,
ceaselessly watchful,
sharpen expensive weapons
whilst swathes of humankind
sink deep in wretched penury
as the heedless live in comfort
or fall prey to luxury.

If Jesus came once more,
arose from stable birth
to point a better way,
it would be but in vain;
for when his voice was heard before
we paid it scant regard.
Neglected now as then
his wisdom stands,
an underused resource
in troubled times.

Can there be God?
If so He must forgive
until we can forgive ourselves,
discover true identity
alive by inspiration’s hand.
Freed from the curse of narrow hearts
rekindled love,
compassion’s fervent friend,
shall urge a kindlier harmony
than we have known before.