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Who Gives a Crap?
Author’s note: This one wasn’t planned.It just came out—somewhere between frustration with the world and trying to hold myself together within it.There’s a line in here that’s very real, and a moment I didn’t expect to share—but it felt important to leave it in.Sometimes we carry more than people realise.And sometimes, it only takes a voice from the past to unravel everything. Who gives a crap? Who gives a crap about some orange-tinted “Master Chief”playing war like it’s Halo?Everybody – or so it seems. Who gives a crap about the ongoing battle in Ukraine,still quietly burning in the background?Nobody – the algorithm moved on.Slava Ukraine. Who gives a crap about…
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Are you OK – Reprise
A quiet reflection on healing and release, where pain gives way to strength, and a hidden burden is finally lifted — leaving behind gratitude, resilience, and the courage to begin again.
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Are You OK?
“Are you OK?” asked the nurse, as machines hummed and lights glared. The patient, yellow-tinged, weary, lay silent while the world hurried around her — fluids, paracetamol, antibiotics, needles and scans, the mystery of illness written in her blood. And what of her husband? Inside: fear, exhaustion, despair. Outside: armour of calm, the warrior, the rock at her bedside. Is he OK? She is not ordinary — if such a word belongs to anyone. Her body a puzzle of conditions that weave together into fragility, into fight. Is she OK? Days blur into nights. Corridors become home, moved from ward to ward, sleep fractured by monitors’ beeps, by rubies of…
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Voice
What is a voice if it can’t be heard?A whisper lost, a silent word.Heard where? At home, on stage, in halls?Or nowhere—bouncing off the walls? We hear so many voices near—Parents, siblings, those we hold dear.Grandparents’ wisdom, friends who care,But what of those in power there? Teachers, medics, those in blue—Do we listen? Do we valueWhat they say, or turn away,Ignoring words they speak each day? And what of leaders, those on high—Councillors, ministers, spinning lies?They preach of cuts, they talk of debt,Yet do they hear our voices yet? When does a voice stop being true?When words are staged, rehearsed anew.Debates, old lines, the same refrain,We’ve heard it all and…
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Leading Lights
When you’re sight impaired like me, Light and dark are hard to see. But in this world, a guiding spark— A leading light to cut the dark. They come in many shapes and size, Golden coats, or deep brown eyes. A shepherd’s grace, a Labrador’s might, A guide dog glowing, strong and bright. To me, they are my eyes, my ears, A bridge beyond my deepest fears. But to the world? A pet, a game, A cruel excuse to cast their shame. Yet they are freedom, step by step, A steady path where doubts have crept. Not a status, not for show, A guiding light to help me go. But time moves on, the years slip by, And every…
