This Life by Cath Campbell

I am not a silent poet

I could not have imagined this century,
this appalled open mouthed scream of rage
wrapped in piecemeal privilege,

nor that babies would still be starving in Africa,
and war would be so popular,
more so than love or kindness,

nor ever thought women would still shudder
beneath a callous thumb.
I am unimaginative.

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