the lawyers strode into the court,
robes swishing,
black robes, the white shirt, the black slacks
the black blazer...
and in their bundles, their mountainous stack of documents
writing closely spaced
black strokes on white paper.
and the statue of justice
grimly blind but for the
ever present black and white
she sees in every issue before the court
for eventually
the judge decides,
has to decide...
robed as he is in black and white.
and yet
when the lawyers have filed out
one party victorious,
the other lost in the dust of defeat...
black and white fade into
a nothingness,
an in between of varying shades of grey.
some shades almost black,
some shades almost a silvery white
and man acknowledge the limits of demarcation
between good and evil.
and coloured over is red
the colour of blood.
some spilled in the heat of battle
as the lawyers fight it out,
lives change
lives destroyed
lives uplifted...
red for the colour of anger
of flaring arguments
of the judge shooting question after question.
the law lives in this world
of black and white
it thrives on answers, solutions
to problems that perplex,
and yet
when the last light is off
in the quiet darkness
it wonders,
ponders the manifold shades in between
and a shiver.
so certain, so sure in the daylight...
yet, it cannot
be sure where
there is no light leading its path,
stumbling as it does
over questions without answers.
3 comments:
Sometimes it seems like we're making it up as we go along, doesn't it? The law, I mean. Although in more optimistic moments, I prefer to think we're just doing the best we can in the best way we can, using our all too fallible, all too human powers of reason and sense of justice.
Hey, it could be worse.
PS: What do you know, I said 'we'. Nearly there... three quarters of the route covered, remember?
you nailed the descriptions
A good one though!
Post a Comment