Uprooting.

Because we were afraid of being uprooted

Like  trees   to make space for new development

Deprived of our nest

The littler wormhole where we found our solace,

Where we could stay still and contemplate the marvels

Of a universe yet to be born,

Or another planet at the gates of beyond.

But then we had to say goodbye

To the quiet world that we knew

Where we used to play hide and seeks with our emotions

The single quiet roads that brought us

To what we are to-day.

We have to make a formal salutation

To the thunderous noise of these aggressive vehicles

Unearthly creature of a gullible nation

Despoiling us of our quiet moments and our solitude

In the little corners of the soul.

When all is said and done

There is no quiet software to lament

The loss of a  paradise.

Alfred Grech.

20/07/2019