I stood, head bowed,drenched by rain and existential angstThat cold, dark Edinburgh night.What am I? Why is rain?Time passed, no answers came.
A Gaza Romance
Together they played among the ruins,Burnt shells of buildings that once were homes;hid and peered through broken walls,frightened at the soldiers passing by;screamed as jets roared overheadand bombs came raining down.
The cold evening airThe loud post work drinkers, spilling onto the pavementThe shop windowsThe bright lightsThe late shoppersThe big red bus
Who are youSpeeding by with your siren-wailing escort.Behind bulletproof glass you sip your wine and do not lookat those who gaze open-mouthed at your passing.
Monarchs demand I bow and bend the knee,to show respect they don’t deserve.Their subject I refuse to be.Non serviam, I will not serve.