Fiddler on the Roof

And silence descends upon my valley as layers
Of wandering clouds roll down the hills,
And wood smoke rises up through the still air
To hang forgotten among the mossy branches
Of slender fir and pine ---

The setting sun lights up the horizon
With delicate tints of orange, pink and mauve;
A flock of birds settle down for the night.
As faint laughter floats in from afar ---
The tinkle of a child's happy peals,
The creak of an ancient yew branch as
A laughing thrush snuggles in at eventide ---

And layers upon layers of uneven mountain tops
Recede into nothingness...
In ever vanishing shades of purple and powder blue;
The silence and the receding nothingness beyond
Mirror the peace and calm of an old soul
Coming home...

I will get up again
I will brush off the debris
And stand up again

In dark corners you shall
Not find me cowering
Behind locked doors you will
Not see me hiding

I shall meet you at the
Teeming city centre
If you have a face
I shall offer you a cuppa
At my favourite cafe
If you have a name

Tomorrow I shall go to work
Again
Tomorrow I shall sit to create
Again
Tomorrow I shall laugh
Again
Tomorrow the sun will shine
Again

My centre WILL hold again
Things will NOT fall apart
I will brush off the debris
And stand up again

Paris. Baghdad. Beirut.
Salute!