Life in London during these last couple of weeks has been interesting to say the least. As small as the British Isles may be, we sure have caused ripples all the way across the pond.
Where is the democracy that we keep hearing about? Regardless of whether people voted leave or remain, nobody is happy as the politicians pass the turd sandwich around the table and starve us of a decision. Meanwhile us little people are worried about our jobs, homes and even whether our fellow EU friends can even stay in the country. The atmosphere on the streets is tense. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried.
What can a poet do at a time like this? Well, I did my part as a British citizen by voting and can say that I have a clear conscience. And, as a true believer in democracy I respect that others in this country may feel differently to me. Ordinary folk fight and the country turns a blind eye. Yet the bigwigs that run a country fight about money and power and – lo and behold – war is declared. And who loses out? The peasants, of course. But we peasants can do our part to make a difference in the (anxiety) society that we have chosen to live in. We have the power to protest!
What would Socrates do?