The  silence aches with menace  and hot hair

Are we bristling with an untold rage?
The  silence aches with menace  and  hot hair
I feel our minds and hearts are disengaged

Why do we blame God for our steel cage?
The glass around it mists with such despair.
Are we filled with old, unholy rage?

We don’t recognise the players on our stage
And what is worse, we feel we do not care,
As our minds and hearts are disengaged

The scriptwriter was not named on the page!
They told  it all  and left our feelings bare,
So we bristle with unruly rage.

Are we in need of ethical  triage,
Assessed by saints and demons of despair?
While our minds and hearts are disengaged

Would we were in  gardens, unknown, fair
As Leonard Cohen’s songs drowned out our fear
Are we condemned to tussle with our rage?
I sense our minds and hearts awry, dismayed.