The Country of the Blind

Today's poem takes its title from the H.G. Wells short story of the same name. It is an allegory fuelled by the selfishness of those calling for freedom day, playing down Covid, wanting holidays in the sun (I have no issue with wanting travel to see loved ones), putting the economy ahead of their fellow men.

It's not a new mentality. The government mantra that we must decide for ourselves has only exposed what we all have known for a long time, that there is a strong streak of selfishness in people. Mental health also plays a part: closed in with restricted freedoms, people are champing at the bit. 

But that is also too often an excuse. It's something which one also expects in a materialist, hedonistic society where more the affluent are used to getting their own way. Teachers, in the meantime, are thrown to the Covid wolves with scarcely a second thought, while the States Chamber remains determinedly empty of members who meet virtually, and will probably continue to do so as numbers rise even when all restrictions are lifted.

When I think of those who were here for five long years under restricted freedoms of the German Occupation, and just had to live with it and carry on, or those who went to the Concentration camps, or in our own time, those in refugee camps in countries torn apart by civil wars - all ordinary people, who hope for freedom because they really value freedom - and I hear people who are annoyed because they can't drink at  the bar in pubs, or go to night clubs, and want to be free - I hear the voice of a people who have lost sight of what freedom really means. 

The Country of the Blind

Stretching out into a dark place
Unseeing, searching for the light
Fading memories of another face
Hidden by darkest clouds of night

Our land: the country of the blind
Shadows where once was sight
Frustration is far from being kind
Anger wants freedom from blight

Freedom day! Now to boldly go
Hear the waves, the gull’s cry
Step to the edge. Feel life aglow
One step more: falling, broken, die

Against our boundaries, we chafe 

But beyond is not always safe