‘They came for the gypsy’s And I was not a gypsy, so I did not speak out’ And although my face stung with tears, At the sight of a heritage being washed away,
As the flag tumbled to the floor, stained red, His weary eyes, glimmered with hope, The tyranny had ended for one minority, yet remained embedded in another,
‘They came for the Muslims, And I was not a Muslim so I did not speak out’ And although I did not wear a burqua, I saw through veiled eyes, The warning signs, the prowling beast,
‘Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name’ Uttered words, whispered through devoted teeth, Falling soothingly, perfectly, like a hand suspended in prayer,
Digging in the garden, mud smeared on my face like a solider, Carefree and innocent, my feet submerged in dirt, Flowers, flying free like extensions of my arms,