Power is that
sticky, invisible liquid
that seeps and oozes into
the rooms and crevices
of institutions,
and clings to
the subtle connections
between humans
at all scales
of human existence.
Its scent is
putrid to some,
who smell its rotting drip,
and an exotic perfume
to others,
who want
the exhilarating pleasure
of its scent.
But its presence
in the habitations,
places and forums
of human life,
in all its complicacy,
cannot be mistaken.
Leadership and politics
become drunk on this
wine,
so aged and refined
in the barrel of civilisation
and bought with
a high price.
Yet, for others,
it is the elixir
of death
that is dispensed
and showered
on the poor,
the fragile,
and the weak,
who know its acrid smell
and see how it
pollutes the
very streams of life
that should sprinkle
with hope.
But power can flow
with the viscosity of life,
and be as fluid and as living
as blood
and as healing as a tonic
given to lift the weary
and heal despair.
Its flowing energy
can create and
provoke,
sponsor and incite,
inspiration and
imagination,
harmony and peace.
Seeping and sticky,
power is everywhere:
as a corrosive acid,
as an impetus for change
as a fine wine
for the elite to savour
or as sparkling
and fresh waters
of healing and life.
4/4/2016