Mute Witness

In the window, beyond the glass, I see
A dark silhouette moving swiftly
Amongst twisted branches as the wind
Blasts through and I sit detached

From all that turmoil. I am simply
Too delicate you see. I am not permitted
To see the grand finale, the climax
Of decades of discontent. I've chosen silence

And denial and apathy. An external storm rages
But inwardly, a moderate climate reigns
Inside my mind, it is cold you see but clear
and calm and bathed in a wintry sunlight

I am in exile, a mute witness,
A silent watcher, moving through
Fields and forests as I savour
The rancid flavour of isolation.