Friday, 6 July 2018

Blind Eye

Invisible within sight,
The blind leading the blinded. 

What the eye doesn’t see…

But in a grieving heart,
Grief is in the beating…

Out of sight, out of mind…

Seeing is contaminated
As seeing is denied.

Out of our tiny minds…

Madness or ignorance
Twists what was done.

Nothing to see here…

The evidence of our eyes
Plucked out, subverted.

Least said, soonest mended…

Time heals
But leaves a scar
Of silence.

For the greater good…

As if wickedness denied
Was never wickedness at all.

© Brian Hill

True scale of UK role in torture and rendition after 9/11 revealed

Brian Hill. 50 years a poet. One-time designer and film-maker; long ago, the rhyme-slinger, cartoon cowboy, and planetarium poet; now feverishly stringing words together in the hope of making sense.
Brian blogs as Scumdadio (don’t ask).