Hurry up, Justice! Haven't you tarried long enough?
Masses wait in silence,
Or rage, or somewhere in-between
And still you taunt us with your absence.
Still, you mock us with your lingering, looming sense,
Withheld from our grasp.

But, you were never ours to hold.
So we push and prod to no avail.
We pray and
Wait
For you to prevail.
But Justice,
We've heard your arc is long.
We beg your Narrator to keep us strong.
-st

Fimbulwinter
 
An axe age, a sword age
- shields are riven –
a wind age, a wolf age –
before the world goes headlong.
-Seeress’s Prophecy
 
The world went headlong
Into the deep,
Dark spaces
Of climate needs
And plagues
And death,
Disproportionate wealth,
 
And distrust.
Prevailing
Winds of change
Await
In the Fimbulwinter of humanity’s new state.
Meanwhile we fumble,
Find footing, stumble
 
Again.
For now, we cloister ourselves
Off in our living rooms,
If we have them - keep ourselves
Safe from impending doom.
Until we find relief.
Until history repeats.
-st

Ancient Syrian
Glass beads were made
From sea-turned sand - 
Displaced granules
Plus, scalding heat
Created the change.
Solid became liquid,
Became solid once more.
 
The babies have been bombed
There, you know,
While the Western world
Is willingly blind
(Probably from the glare 
Of glass-faced skyscrapers). 
But glass and water and time
Have seen it all.
-st
(Many thanks to Paul S. Brookes of The Wombwell Rainbow, where this poem was originally posted.)