What can a poet do in perils?
I have full faith in our guiding statement
‘Nothing can be done.’
I can speak through my metaphors
And irony may wind my sails
And I know my words make nothing happen.
So what can be done?
‘Nothing,’ they say.
But can’t a song be sung?
Cannot a voice, be it ineffectual, be voiced?
My wings may be broken,
Or I may be caged,
Still I sing.
More I be burnt,
More mastery I have with my lyre.