Media Lies

I heard the news today and felt the tangles 

of words and pictures of guilt and shame,

hiding the bald truth beneath polite pretence, 

running a video of the violence of a nation,

to deceitfully thwart recognition of their own.


A child has died, the police convict parents,

and so the drip feed wounds us, calls us out,

to feel the pain this one neglected child while

they silence the horror of hundreds that die

each hour, every minute with emptied eyes.


A tiny body buried under a bomb struck home,

a body brutalised by violation and sexualisation,

a small emaciated form in a desert landscape

where rain once fell and now brown sand blows.


Like the opened talons and sharp beak, headlines

pose like soaring eagles gazing from lofty heights

to find their prey, devouring the mouse who dares

show their face and questions their right to hun

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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