Out of Sight Out of Mind
In the bowels of justice I’ve seen them perched on high
throned in theatres of boundless power, certain truth, yet don’t ask why.
In long stained robes of black, deep dark crusted painful black, like mourners for cheap sale
to us the parade of death remains constant, ever present; all too real.
To them its numbers –
faceless repetitive rote numbers stripped of soul and name
broken homes, lives; next says he- not a hint of shame
Death’s cadence- the endless trail of lost years, families wept dry, he sheds no tears.
stolen youthful dark faces, a bounty of frozen fears.
In the bowels of justice no one cares.
Theirs is the power of power, absolute power, not much more.
The arrogance of arrogance, absolute arrogance, so easy to abhor.
The darkness we’ve all become- innocence long lost
numbed to its timeless brutal cost.
Out of sight, out of mind
Illusion the game
Justice its name.
Revenge all the same.
Let us also remember the wise words of Clarence Darrow:-
‘You can only protect your liberties in the world by protecting the other man’s freedom’
caged but undaunted 