Off a back alley, on the floor of a small room,
you lie  in a pool of crimson blood, dying
the doctor, with nothing but a bandage
is unable to heal your gaping wounds
Your family pleads with strangers in orange vests
from far off Egypt, Sudan and Mauritania
because your privileged compatriots in the  City
show no empathy for your ilk
You are but a hoax to them, a conspiracy,
a figment of fevered, primitive minds,
who demand the right to freedom and dignity
and place their fate in the hands of  the divine
Your protestations are disturbing to them,
you expose their fake modernity for what it is,
the basest form of human existence,
privilege as reward for absolute subservience
They are the modern slaves whose master,
a deified leader with no redeeming qualities,
demands absolute obedience and yet,
unlike your God, shows no mercy or compassion
And so when one of the privileged
stands by your expiring body and chides:
“Is this the freedom that you want?”
you answer: “Yes, God save your rotten soul…..”

Posted by at 12:46 PM

As physicians, we are taught to “first, do no harm”.

And so, in life, I like the middle road, where reason prevails over
the harm that is the inevitable result of ignorance, prejudice and intolerance.