Hold on to your britches
it's a fractured planet
there are no quick fixes
there is no universal magnate
so hold on to your crucifixes.
The world is fractured
we are different—continents adrift
we are a people deeply-fissured
there will always be a rift;
shadowy days when the sun does eclipse.
Nights—neighbouring parties
go to war; days when parleys
confabs hit a brick wall
putting us all on a collision course.
I wish we were all non-combatant.
But it's a fractured planet,
there are no quick, easy fixes
there is no universal magnate
it vexes me that one day we'll be all out
and without any more innings to play.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem