Undoing The Spell

The ones we left behind,

hypnotised by the voices on the megaphone,

lulled into a state of fear by the repetition and the spell-ing of the words to believe

that poison is medicine and medicine is poison

taught to hate and name-call their neighbours, family and friends.

We have antidotes and words to undo the spells,

we have medicines for the injuries they have caused.

When we gather each night in a circle holding hands, I often think of each of those who are absent,

relationship cords severed by hypnotic design.

Each night I wonder when they will come and if they will come.

We left a trail of pebbles to follow, scattered along the path for anyone who finds themselves;

thrown out of a spellbound state, and wondering what on earth happened to the world they used to know.

We are building a new one now.