Grief’s circles extend and extend. The
country teeters like a slowing top.
The way is down, down. I cannot see
the miracle that will put a stop
to this nonsense. Every decent mouth
is dumb. Some have gone abroad so they
may breathe, and left us with the uncouth
and mad. They ask why we choose to stay
There is no choice. I can accept stour or
silence, even hypocrisy. I can
accept humiliation. What I cannot
accept is death, for it is death to dower
this place to the jackals. As a man
responsible, I must suffer my lot.
By Taufiq Rafat