A chiliad of voices in one reeling head Atop a scarlet thistle-down scarecrow Hail soul-silence with an eerie whistle Faltering into a vortex of its old echo And emerge as one blank incoherent cry
Outside, the pouched-porridge thinkers Hollering 'This abyss is false and fissile' Look on through starkly glittering blinkers And sneer 'Grow a spine and knock it dead 'The fittest only may survive: do it or die'
The echo creaks, croaks, cracks; is splintered Becomes cold ash in a silver-chased urn Hissing 'Thus into eternity am I clinkered. 'Look. Look. Look at what guilt can churn 'Before you bleach your memory and fly.
Hibah Shabkhez is a writer of the half-yo literary tradition, an erratic language-learning enthusiast, a teacher of French as a foreign language and a happily eccentric blogger from Lahore, Pakistan. Studying life, languages and literature from a comparative perspective across linguistic and cultural boundaries holds a particular fascination for her. Her Twitter is: @hibahshabkhez Blogs: https://hibahshabkhezxicc.wordpress.com/ and http://languedouche.blogspot.fr/