PERSONA NON GRATA Something in ‘me’ and ‘my’ and ‘I’ incurs disapprobation both from grim-purposed radicals and seekers steeped in contemplation. They feel, it seems, the poets’ voice of all most needs to purge the ego. Who’s then to sing of gods, world, work and love, and of one’s fellow? I find the narrow mirror strip inside the central cell of me turns out sometimes to be a door from my identity to all Identity.

© Lionel Abrahams