Of Fact and Favours

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I was watching the BBC News Channel last night, and there was a story about a Syrian orchestra being separated by the conflict, and them all trying to get visas from their various countries of settlement in order to come together and play in Holland.  Not everyone was able to make it, due to various restrictions, and those that were able had had six months of logistics to deal with.  But there was joy in reassembling as well as they could, for they were able to unite in their art and show a different side of Syria.  (I think it was a rerun of the documentary made last year which is at the bottom of the link)

So I was already thinking about conflict and the effects on normal lives when these words popped up.

*I live in the UK, so I have spelt ‘favor’ my way in the poem.


Execute   Favour*   Feature   Tactical   Conflict   Plush   Creator   Rights   Daytime

He did not execute me

As a favour;

Because my eyes

Reminded him of his mother’s.


This fact did not feature

In the official notes, of course.

(None of it had been tactical,

I do not flutter to avoid conflict).


We had not met secretly:

Plush rooms hired –

Me: the creator of his dreams,

Him: sweeping through mine.


There was just that moment:

A cold, walled, corner

Basic human rights upheld…

And then my spot on Daytime TV.


The idea of carrying out daily life not knowing if relatives are going to survive the fighting in your homeland; or bringing a culture to somewhere that might not understand it and therefor resent

Purple progeny

you; or suddenly becoming commercially viable to the world for a day or so because of some horrific brush with death you had…these thoughts trouble me.  I would not wish the reality of them on anyone.

Have you been finding it hard to watch the news recently? What do you think of when you hear ‘conflict’?

Feel free to ponder in the comments.








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