How does the news of our sovereignty reach us?
A thousand miles away from home
in a tree hut on a golden dawned day.
Paired up pared down to two between towns on dusty road.
by what means
can we possibly know who messages are for
in what language and persuasion?
are they just words tumbling in no particular order
yet awkwardly organised in ways which
come together with
something of message
which, only half understood
yet it do burn within us
such that we have to let him out, see?
else we'd be bunged up with the flux
and choke to death on 'ee
Hear the quick note
fill up your lungs