David Daykin - I Fall

I sit here high in my tree.
My gaze travels and far do I see.

Murder makes headlines,
as long as in time for the deadlines.
My grip weakens, a finger releases.

Hope has faded,
poor countries suffer unaided.
My grip weakens, a finger releases.

Wars in our neighborhood,
streets awash with young blood.
My grip weakens, a finger releases.

A mother who has her child taken away,
her only crime was to let them go out and play.
My grip weakens, a finger releases.

The elderly left, ignored, to die,
people who struggled through Wars for you and I.
My grip weakens, a finger releases.

The faces that my eyes do meet,
contorted with desire, bigotry, a huge conceit.
My grip weakens, a finger releases.

This world seperated by political lines,
this world that is rotting, sliding into decline.
My grip weakens, a finger releases.

So I sit here high in my tree,
closing my eyes not wanting to see.
Am I safe behind my walls?
No, so I release my grip and then,
fall.

David Daykin

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-fall/