In That Minute

 

 

countdown begins

sixty foot tapping seconds

before the tills ring again

 

and in that minute

when we are shamed

into impatient silence

how many of us bend our minds

to shelter the recent dead

how many imagine

rat filled terror soaked trenches

how many want to know

how it feels to die

 

if thoughts were pictures

in that minute

we would see the many colours

our neighbour is considering

for his kitchen

a gleaming array of shoes would walk

through the mind of a bored looking girl

and the man checking his watch

would take a knife

and slice open his overfed diary

 

those of us who choose

in that minute

to rest our thoughts on death

use sixty precious silent seconds

to see the unseen

the unclean

and we wonder how long it takes

to learn to look away from hunger

and from pain

 

how many smiles

in that minute

offered to a stranger

would colour how we paint

tomorrow