The shield was taken away
And I saw you for what you are
When there’s no such thing as permanence
Or a safe harbour
I swam in the raging current
And licked the flames of the fearsome fire.
I sped fast past the axe murderer’s slash
And I clung
I clung for any scrap.
Now the shield is restored
My makeshift masterpiece
Painstakingly constructed and lovingly protected
Yet as flimsy as a feather in the wind
As useful as a crumb in the bin
I have no time to think
Nor plan nor prepare
No time but the second before me
Barracaded from the flood
Wrapped tight in insecurity
My lacerated wounds dressed in pound shop plasters
A shield of hopeful design.
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