The Vine

The Vine


A beautiful new baby

delighting the family,

gifts at his baptism,

no silver spoon

but there were toys.


Growing up heralds

the hopelessness

and cruel certainty for

the likes of him.


Poverty coils around his feet

snaking round his ankles,

tying them fast,

keeping him where

He is.


Guided by governments,

Ordered by opulence

They wind about his weakened flesh.


A family fastened together

by invisible vines

of self doubt

and depression.

Lies peddled by cruel folk

deliberately attacking

his home and


Children, who wait daily

To eat from the foodbank;

while other kids

carry bank cards

and dine when they want.


Who divided us?

Who decided? Us?

Who derided thus

and sowed in so many lives

those covert creepers?



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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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