just listen



try again



don’t speak



don’t know



don’t judge



don’t rush



a while longer



just wait



how can you


you do not



Of follies and fascism.

Despite the heartening reaction from so many quarters, it’s the incessant repetition of times like this that leave me with a bone-tired weariness and despair at the continued spinelessness and stupidity of ‘humanity’. That so many would accept the same fallacies, so often, by so few.

There is beauty in silence; but one should not confuse the silence of listening with the silence of inaction, acquiescence or appeasement. Ultimately, there comes a time when silence is submission. And with that thought I’ll leave you. In peace.

A certain birdsong in the silence


I was lost when you found me

standing next to the stairway

another path not yet discerned.



I remember the small girl spat upon by the roadside

the violence of men fearing innocence

little sense as my strength betrayed me.



It was fear that tore me

from what I had known

certain truths will cut the ties.



I remember the young woman in the headscarf

the flowers that she had bought

a lump in my throat as she handed them to me.



It was absence that drove me

toward a certain uncertainty

my rebellion finally overthrown.



I remember the old woman gentle in wisdom

her husband by the open door

as he sat and bade a silent welcome to me .



It is not wisdom and yet

I am content to sit and listen

birdsong beckoning in the silence.