These are the days of our lives.
Morning rush
Lunchboxes to wash
Scrambling to prepare meals
Clock ticking louder, Louder, LOUDER
Can't be late
again.
Traffic awaits.
The to and fro;
the thrum of movement
on roads
set out
like veins,
people and cars,
trucks and taxis
coursing through -
the lifeblood of the city.
This will settle
eventually.
Everyone in place
no hurried chase,
yet calm
still
does not permeate the air
while the week goes on
no.
It's only on Sundays,
and public
or other
holidays
that the silence descends,
tranquility all around
as everyone's heartbeat
s
l
o
w
s
down...
Well-deserved rest
from a life
otherwise spent
in near-perpetual movement and chaos.
It wasn't always like this.
Urban life
a (relatively) new paradigm
in human history.
Far from the hush
of our ancestors' peaceful lives,
where
living off the land
meant
living with the sand
as constant companion.
Touching, feeling
the Earth.
Fingernails dark
from ploughing the dirt.
No corporations
monopolising sustenance.
Tipping hats to the neighbour,
everyone accustomed
to physical labour.
Sweat and toil,
good, honest work.
But eventually
the machines took over:
~ first farming,
~ then industry,
~ then technology.
Luring us in
to virtual worlds
which our hearts and mind inhibit
even when
our bodies
silently scream out
for a return
to nature's goodness
no...
you are
now
a cog
in the factory, owned
by corporate
and governmental
overlords.
Dictating
what you eat
how you live
what you think...
uniformity
amidst the illusion
of choice and individual freedom.
"War is peace."
"Freedom is slavery."
"Ignorance is strength."
We're not there
yet.
Do you see
the invisible walls
going up all around?
The ideological cages
limiting
what is socially acceptable;
society's standards
dictated
by oligarchs masquerading
as politicians
and special interest groups.
Their media tentacles
stretching far and wide.
Telling their lies
over
and over
and over
and over
until it becomes
the truth
believed
by the masses.
Except
when the masses are awake.
When they see
through the fake.
Fitra* shining through
binding hearts
like glue.
They know
and say it loud:
Mass murder
is not normal.
And waylaying the truth
will not extinguish
its light,
but only blacken
your rotten heart
even more.
So as you threaten and bully,
seek total obedience and control,
remember
falsehood never prevails;
you can never keep
the power that you stole.
Enjoy it while you can,
for this life
is the only pleasure you'll get.
Your eternal home awaits:
a pit of never-ending threats.
*In Islam, “fitra” generally refers to the innate natural state or disposition of humans, including the basic universal values of goodness inherent in us all. (There are other connotations too, but this explanation covers what I mean in this poem’s context.)
slip-sliding away..... 
A very moving piece, Yacoob. Thank you. I want to meditate on that lovely meaning of fitra.
As you may imagine, we are heartsick, anxious, less secure in our retirement, angry, and frightened about what’s coming…none of which stops us from protesting and hoping for better outcomes than seem possible today.
Evil is afoot and disgenuously tries to disguise itself as goodness. Most of us are not fooled. At all.
Gentle peace to you and your beloveds.