Tag Archive: Erich Fried

this migrant skin … … …

​this migrant skin.

tin-cans, discarded cartons,

garbage bins,
littered with fragmented shards of myself,
shed, left behind,

amidst by-lanes,
pieces of who i was,

slivers of me,
ever trying to belong,

to be,
so we moult,

social chameleons,
slimy, deceitful,

charming, soulless,
casual, empty emotions,

flung aside here,
bits of that life,

of this,
leaving laughter, pouring tears, down drains hugging boulevards,
strewn with crushed petals.

this migrant skin,

this malleable face,
numberless incomprehensible masks staring back,
a mishmash mosaic,
shadows of yesteryears faces,

worn and torn,
ever straining to flee,
the restlessness growing,

teetering on tightrope,
as year turns to close,

I’ll see if I can find me.

( inspired  by Erich Fried’s “In Hiding” )

For Pastor Martin Niemoller (1892 – 1984)


the hushed rage of prejudice rejoices in triumphant pomp and hateful ceremony,


the silent dagger of complicit racism plunges deep into the soul of a world bereft of hope,


the long knife of embraced apathy twists and turns,


perhaps we’ll open our opaque eyes,

and perhaps then we’ll open our sewed-up mouths,

and perhaps only then will we whimper in mock shock and startled surprise,


the festering hate that spirals around us,

in the fertile minds of quasi-religious bigotry,

is unafraid,

and speaks in the loudest baritone.



we accept,

we acquiesce,

we wish it all away,


there will come that time when the lines are drawn,

when the purest hearts of silently smiling bigotry will hold the world in their sway,

with their cherubic, agreeable arguments sprinkled with pieces of fact that will kill, rape, pillage, and slay…

what then,

I ask,

will we do that day?


” … First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me … ” – Pastor Martin Niemoller

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