Negating the proverb: Where there’s a will there’s a way
Human will is overflowing; rock or ground or tree that’s growing brought to definite submission by machinery or by wishin’. We will our enemies and our friends with sanctions, threats or promised ends. Will-smog paints exorbitant skies, advertising boils with untold lies. We beckon microbes to take their tea on our slides so that we may see a highway to hygiene, or doctor’s win; benchtops flashy; bacteria done in. We humans are chock full of will forcing all others to fit our bill no birds on buildings, no cows roam free, bugs stay off crops, koalas lose trees, sharks mustn’t hunt where we want to swim and outer space has no need to stay clean. And this pandemic, round after round we’ve wrestled and jabbed, in air and on ground. We fight like hell for our wish to reign supreme over nature, biggest by brain. Deafening clashes - our quarrels with death and grief, fat and queasy, in each aftermath. Because we’re tiny, if truth be told - soft-skinned, clawless and quick to grow old. Faced with tsunami, volcano or flood we’re puny, we’re fragile - cells in the mud. Cancer, or alzheimers or PTSD, they’re inscrutably fearsome, if you ask me. We fiercely will our loved ones to survive and then loss is so painful. An horrific surprise.