When winter hordes batter
These battlements, long withered,
Wind crept into corners,
When all I want to do
Is gather my bedlinen livery
And scoff at the storm.
It’s always the hidden melody
Insistent to emerge
What music between us
In the wind, in the silences before us,
The raging and the roaring,
The rolling and repose,
That bring me back to festen times –
Set hope for bursting buds,
Set hope for growing times,
Set hope, like gathered rocks
To rebuild, to defend,
To raise these walls to keep us
Set hope.
Set hope.
Jamie Zubairi 