WHO WILL CLEAN UP THE INTERNET

“Who will clean out the Internet?” he asks
His manner exuding the very same tone he would use
To say “Who will clean up the kitchen?”
“Or help me to hoist the canoe?”

“No, I’m serious,” he cries when he sees I am laughing.
“Who will get rid of the stuff that is up there?
Who will delete THE HOPE LADY Blog?”

“Delete it?” I mumble and raise my defences
Furtively counting the number of back-ups
Seeing anew how I’ve taken for granted the space to write down
Whatever I choose, as much as I choose,
Then show it to readers all over the world
With the flick of some seemingly meaningless buttons.

Up on the hill is a beautiful mansion
Crafted from marble and inlaid with gold
Down in the basement you walk past the guest suite
And then past the swimming pool
And into the bomb shelter.
Echoes of past threats, built for protection of those who would hide there
From simple deletion with somebody’s button.

On this summer morning when life is near perfect
I ponder the tension between building a deleting,
Having and saving,
Creating and protecting
In a world where we really have no way of knowing
Who will require great courage tomorrow?
And who will clean up the Internet?