I have packed these weekly poems like suitcases

With the bits of my daily life that I can share

When there was so much more going on

That needed censoring.

But what I really wish I could have done

Is unblock the Hormuz Strait, end the Ukraine war,

And undo the egos of the pram-brats tossing missiles.

Given licence, I would unwrap the faces

Of women in niqabs and burkas and let them feel the sun,

And subtract the language of disfigurement

So that FGM was something never imagined

In the minds of the holders of knives.

But it is futile to argue with anyone

Whose ego is attached to the outcome.

If only the right words would reach the right ears

And the imbeciles would step aside.

In the meantime, I dig to plant

The small patch of ground that I stand on

In an effort to distract myself from what I cannot change,

Only here can I affect the outcome.