We’re meeting. They need to break the ice,
helping us bond and mix.
Strangers, for now, and being nice,
using team-building tricks.
This is all theory, only a game.
Now get into groups. We do.
Smiling all round, each badge with a name;
a sociable, biddable crew.
Imagine: it’s dark, your house’s ablaze,
what one single thing d’you grab?
We’ve time to decide, to think, to raise
some object that isn’t too drab.
The first one to speak says: A coat, quick!
One whispers: This photograph.
When somebody else says: A lipstick
we sit back and hear the first laugh.
A grandchild’s soft toy, a necklace.
Inevitably, a cat.
Small things, defining our own place.
A passport? Who’d think about that?
Outside there’d be help, resources.
Who’d think of losing the lot?
And nobody says how this forces
the unthinkable into the plot.
We move on. Time passes. The news feeds
are keeping us awake.
One carrier bag for a life’s needs.
Now go on: what would you take?
D A Prince
If you have any
thoughts on this poem, D A Prince would be
pleased to hear them.