Forbidden seed, restricted source
Of soothing counterpoint to stress
Your changing status from harmful to hopeful
Has assailed our craft, tilted our deck.
Consensus has moved to the other end of the boat
Threatening to capsize us on the next strong swell
I who once stood surrounded by the righteous majority
Now look around, perplexed and disorientated.
Gusts of wind grab the sails, white-caps form at starboard and port
Wetly I cling to the rail, hair stuck to my face
Cleats clatter, lines whip and snap
And still the dancing crowd in the bow call for more.
Quick, grab the sheets! Throw the anchor overboard!
Watch the boom come over with a crack
Unexpectedly, we've changed our whole direction
Different tack, novel pressure, strange new footing.
This poem was written in response to a report on the publication of South Africa's draft marijuana bill and the reaction by certain sectors of the public to its anti-entrepreneurial restrictions.
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