The Bring-Down And The Fall Poem by Frank Bana

On this rough pole, your grip is tight
Your hands are chafed and torn
But if for just an eyeblink, you let go
You will be keeling back, a gravitational pull

How far you seem to fall....
The absent landing ground
The barren farm of what is left in store.

For no-one is secure, the ropes are frayed
The nets are stretched beyond capacity
The passers-by withholding their concern
The money-lenders' period of grace

The judge brings down his hard robotic fist
Directed by the law and lobbyists
It is time now to go down

To leave children and spouse behind
No use to beg - do not pretend to mind
You were selfish, after all, in your ascent
And later you will trace their eyes
In ridges of the wall
That is all you have to exercise your mind

And if they let you rise
If your limbs are ever sprung
You will not be walking out so tall -
The sky will be much higher
Than your senses can recall.

Should I counsel you with hope?
Would it moderate the pain? Or be clear
About the limits of parole:
Not to borrow, lease or vote
Or enjoy your work again
Once you let go of the pole
For the first and final fall.

Around your ears, the wind is cold
Drops of rain fall from your locks
Bruises on the fabric
Of your coat and uniform
Fingertips burned raw, by acid waste and ink

Remember, when they made you lose your grip?
Your family gone, the payments late
No inspiration for escape
More incisive in their strategy
Than you could anticipate -
They planned your ruin
And brought you down with it.